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kquil · 2 months

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POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.6

06 : SELFISH DESIRES

SUM : it's your chance to make amends and push aside your selfish desires - your heart will ache but they're worth it

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james potter ; piercer remus lupin ; angst ; idiots in love ; unexpected turn of events ; sirius is the main character here ; jk jk ; it's you~ hehe~ ; you'll see what i mean ; wolfstar have a heated argument ; i almost cried writing it ; i hate seeing them like that ; poor james ; james needs a hug ; regulus makes an appearance! ; dramatic sirius black ; regulus is a good brother ; sirius being an instigator ; we love him for it though ; you can't just leave them again! ; no fluff here kiddos ; but kiddos stay away! ; just cover your innocent eyes!

LENGTH : 3.7k

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“You’re disgusting,” Sirius manages an indifferent glance over at his younger brother before resuming his miserable, unmoving position on the sofa — Regulus’ sofa. The obvious detachment Sirius has to the situation only stirs his younger brother’s bubbling anger, “It’s almost been a full month! And you’re letting yourself rot away on my sofa; get a hold of yourself!” No response. Regulus shakes his head with a drawn out sigh, “you usually don’t stay around this long whenever there’s an argument… I wonder what’s happened this time…”

Deeming his older brother completely hopeless, Regulus returns to his sparse but sleek kitchen just as the kettle whistles its readiness to be poured for tea.

Sirius breaths an audible sigh and grimaces at the stench of his breath. The mix of excessive alcohol, countless cigarettes and mountains of junk food didn’t make for a good concoction on his tongue, definitely not for fresh breath. When was the last time he had brushed his teeth? He brings a hand up to push straggling strands of hair away from his view but grumbles when the curls had knotted up too much for him to comb his hair back uninterrupted. Stone grey eyes look down at his figure, stagnant and pale, weighed heavy from low spirits.

What followed the night you left their flat was the worst fight they have ever had. It was mainly between him and Remus while James remained in the background, too downhearted to contribute anything to the verbal warfare happening before him. He was spoiled with love since birth. As an only child with loving parents, who never fought in front of him, whenever Sirius and Remus argued, James was left paralysed with despair. It was always shocking to him how nasty those fights became; his parents never fought like that. Sirius could see it in his sweet hazel eyes that James wanted desperately to have peace but didn’t know how to steer things in that direction. He had tried before, many times, to defuse the situation but both Sirius and Remus were too stubborn and hot-headed from the argument as well as their suddenly stark differences in opinion to back down.

As unfortunate as it is to think about, these fights happened often, recurring in the same exact way – originating from opposing opinions, primarily between him and Remus. They would try to keep it together but it would just keep piling up until someone snaps and then there’s no dispelling their disputes. James either takes a side or none at all (usually the later) and Sirius storms out of the flat to stay with Regulus.

He should feel guilty for being such a burden to his younger brother. He should have more pride in himself than to allow Regulus to ever see him in such a depressed and unpleasant state. Lack of hygiene, self care and self maintenance manifests into something so repulsive and unsightly, Sirius would usually be back and making amends within a week or two – encouraged by his own lack of cleanliness and his commitment to run from the disease of laziness.

But it’s been more than that now. Nearly a month, Regulus says. Time just passes by, slow and tolerant, so unlike him, and yet, Sirius still managed to lose complete track of it. This is the longest they’ve ever had a dispute without reconciling.

His own stubbornness is definitely a factor. He had been right all along. If only they, mostly Remus, had listened to him. James was fully on board but Remus was stubbornly defiant and managed to convince the former otherwise.

“Do you think she’s the type of person who would embrace such an unconventional relationship with open arms?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Moony,” Sirius grits his teeth, his inner thoughts and reasoning ached to be heard and let out coherently. In his mind, it all made sense to do things the way he suggests, so why couldn’t his boyfriend understand him?! It doesn’t even seem like he’s trying to listen to him at this point! “She won’t understand if we don’t say anything to her! We have to be forward and bold! Do it now before something happens!”

“Nothing. Is. Going. To. Happen!”

“How can you be so sure? We need to be honest with her, it’s not fair to her and it’s, frankly, deceitful to keep her in the dark about all this!”

“We can’t be too sure that she’ll accept us. If that happens then we’ll never see her again– I don’t want that, do you?!”

“We won’t know unless we say something, do something, anything!”

“Please just trust me, Siri,” Remus begs, his loud voice lowering to a soft plea, his beautiful brown eyes no longer fierce or piercing but kind and warm again, with a hint of fear. Sirius can sympathise with that creeping terror, an anxiety that wants to swallow you whole and keep you in a dark abyss for eternity, “I don’t want to frighten her…”

The first time, Sirius gave in, weak for his love and weak for the reasoning behind his proposal on the matter concerning you. The dark-haired tattooist couldn’t fault his lover for that but, in hindsight, he should have argued his side more, maybe then, you wouldn’t have disappeared like that…

“Hey, your phone won’t stop pinging,” Regulus alerts, appearing out of thin air and surprising Sirius enough to sit up and alert with wide eyes, “will you finally read their messages to you?” with some reluctance, Sirius reaches for his phone and proceeds to look through his messages while Regulus takes a seat opposite him, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

The younger Black brother was just about to begin reading another one of his classic novel favourites when a rush of air flew by him, ruffling the small strands of hair and whipping about the billowing steam from his mug of tea. Moments later, the sound of his shower turning on full blast echos through his flat and a smile graces his lips.

“It’s about time…”

Lingering guilt had plagued you all night long and you barely managed to get a wink of sleep. It, however, meant that you were able to better prepare lunch for the boys the following day. While cooking, you abandon all negative feelings to focus on only the good, not wanting any harmful emotions to diffuse into the food and saturate it with bad tastes. Your eyebags weren’t a pretty sight but it was easily fixable with a touch of makeup.

You tried to look your best for the day. Fortunately, the early summer sun inspired your motivations further. Yes, you’ve made the terrible mistake of selfishly pushing them away to nurse your own battered soul and unrequited feelings, but this was your time to make amends, to make things right… to see Sirius again.

You never felt right after you accused him of cheating on Remus and James with each other, only to find out that he was far more loving and loyal than that. You were embarrassed and ashamed to have ever thought so negatively about him, jumping to conclusions like an immature, thoughtless child. It was wonderful seeing James and Remus again, your heart was practically soaring in your chest as it disregarded all lingering feelings of misery and dejection. But now, your chest felt incredibly tight as your heart ached to catch a simple glimpse of Sirius.

You carefully pack away the lovingly prepared food and desserts into your largest, most durable shopping bag before getting dressed. It was only natural that you managed to make more than you usually made for the boys, seeing as you wanted to spoil them rotten after being so childish the last few weeks. Since the weather was pleasant, you opted for a cute mini dress with a light, flowy material that was comfortable and soft. Over top, you wore a cropped cardigan that had long sleeves, enough to reach past your fingertips. For jewellery, you wore a simple necklace and slipped into a strappy pair of mid-heeled platforms that weren’t too tall. Casual but cute.

Approaching the studio doors, your grip on the strap of your bag tightens and your breath hitches. They hadn’t taken the notice down and the bold, red letters of their ‘CLOSED’ sign glared at you angrily.

Were they inside? Should you knock? Neither Remus or James actually agreed to your sudden choice to meet for lunch the night before. Did this mean that they didn’t want you to be in their lives anymore?... But… but you wanted to make things right! You wanted to apologise! You want to be friends with them again! You’ll tell them right away – tell them how you would do anything just to remain by their side, even if it’s just as a friend, you’ll be happy for them! You won’t be selfish anymore, you won’t covet anything more than friendship with them, that’s all you want! Not that they’ve ever heard of your true desires—

“Well?” A familiar voice speaks up behind you, putting an abrupt end to your panicked inner monologue, “Aren’t you going to knock?”

Swiftly spinning in place, you smile brightly at the biker and tattooist standing before you, dressed in all black, with heavy, lace-up boots and his signature leather jacket, “Sirius!”

He doesn’t breathe a word to you, eyeing your hefty bag before briefly meeting your eyes and making his way over. His long strides made it so that he reached you in no time but he didn’t stop. With a light gasp, he had backed you up into the left of their studio’s double-door front entrance. You held your breath and kept your eyes shut tight, not knowing what to do as your heart pounded deafeningly against your eardrums.

A moment passes and you feel his hand brush against yours before your portly bag of packed food is taken from you. A wave of relief washed over your aching shoulder as the weight disappeared but such a diminutive alleviation of discomfort couldn’t swamp the trepidation in your heart. Sirius was different.

“Siri–”

“Let’s head inside,” he had opened the right hand door and easily slipped through with your bag. Alone and in the quiet, you felt like crying. You wanted to cry, desperately but you knew that it would offer little to no reassurance. So, with a heavy heart, you followed Sirius inside and closed the studio door behind you.

The air was stale but, in it, lingered a familiar scent that you had come to love, it was a clean, almost clinical smell from the regular use of disinfectant and bleach. You love this parlour so much, it was filled with so many good memories, ones of soft affection through tender words and gentle caresses. Despite the earlier interaction, you couldn’t help but smile just from the wave of romantic sentiment washing over you.

“You’re here,” Remus greets with a tired smile as James sits on the opposite end of the sofa with a shy grin directed towards you, his hazel eyes looking elsewhere.

“Sorry if I’m late,” you managed a weak smile, “I didn’t know if the door was open or not. Thankfully, Sirius was there to help me in,” Sirius didn’t sit down despite the many available seating spaces and chose to lean his back against a far wall, instead. James couldn’t meet your eyes and Remus was sneakily massaging his temple as he leaned his face against his large hand, “let’s eat, shall we? I hope you guys are hungry,”

It was never this awkward. Or quiet. Especially when sharing your homemade lunch together. James would usually be giving you endless praise through large, mid-chewed mouthfuls while Sirius laughed at the ridiculous sounds and faces he’d pull trying to speak coherently through the mouthful of food, and Remus would shake his head, his amusement by the display evident in the warm glimmer of his eyes. However, James doesn’t have as big of an appetite today and Sirius stands alone with his tupperware, barely touching his food. Remus is the only one eating a substantial amount besides you. Although, you’ve gradually slowed your own chewing.

What have you done?...

What happened to all of you?

Your shame brought your gaze down, making your head weigh heavier than usual as you give up on communicating anything with the boys. This wasn’t how it was meant to go…what should you do now? The pain in your heart was unbearable.

Shoulders slumped and confidence dried up, you struggled to think of what to do. You should have prepared a speech or something. It was naive of you to think that simply coming over with a homemade lunch would fix anything. Things are never going to be the same, no matter how much you hope and pray for them to be.

You’re hopeless… completely and utterly hopeless…

This was your worst fear come to life. You had feared rejection but seeing them unloving towards each other, barely communicating and broken apart, your stomach collapsed in on itself as your heart fell to a million pieces. You didn’t utter a single word of loving them romantically aloud and yet, you still managed to get in between their relationship. This was a sentiment of how selfish of a person you are.

How could you do this to them?! They were your friends, who saved you from the worst night of your life, and you repay them like this?! Shameful. Disgusting. You don’t think you could ever look at yourself in the mirror again.

The skirt of your mini dress blurs on your lap and you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing out loud. The tears, however, you couldn’t stop them. Hopefully, they’re all too distracted to see you silently weeping and you can gather yourself before turning tail and running out of there.

Today is a complete disaster—

“Don’t cry, angel, please!” James jumps up and rushes to your side, kneeling down at your feet as he takes your hands in his and tries to meet your gaze through the puddle of tears in your eyes. His words immediately catch Remus and Sirius’ attention and they both begin to make their way over, evident worry swimming in their eyes but you refuse to acknowledge any of that as your mind drowns in all manner of negative thought.

You shake your head, hearing the flurry of footfalls around you and wishing them away silently, “I shouldn’t have come here today…” you whisper.

“What was that?” James patiently asks, voice soft and sweet and kind, it makes you want to fall into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you speak clearer and stand abruptly, “enjoy the lunch,” the haste and sorrow in your shaking voice makes their heart drop and they’re brought back to that fateful night once more. You don’t meet their eyes as you turn and push past them to leave, almost running through the hallway of their studio just to reach the door and make a quick escape.

“THIS!” Sirius’ roaring voice suddenly cuts through the studio like a knife, making you stop in your tracks and turn around slowly. The door to the lounge room was still open, before it Sirius and Remus stood in an aggressive confrontation, both taking on a defensive stance as they faced each other, all while James remained in the background, clutching at his head as he slumped forward on the sofa, “THIS IS WHAT I MEANT! IF YOU HAD JUST LISTENED TO ME–”

“I DIDN’T SAY WHAT I SAID WITHOUT REASON SIRIUS! YOU KNOW MY EXACT THOUGHTS ABOUT ALL THIS!” Remus shouts back, the veins in his neck bulging out from his fierce anger, the blood rushing in his cheeks making him look just about ready to violently explode.

“BUT–”

“—YOU CAN’T FAULT ME FOR THAT!” Remus continues, not allowing Sirius to speak.

“WELL YOU CAN’T FAULT ME FOR MY REASONING EITHER!”

You’re horrified at the scene. Sirius and Remus look ready to tear each other apart as James looks on hopelessly, not knowing what to do or how to diffuse the situation, completely torn between supporting one or the other. Without thinking, you rush back and skid to a stop between the two hot-blooded men. Their fuming rage was like a turbulent inferno whose flames licked viciously at your skin, ready to burn you and spread the hostility.

“The both of you need to calm down!” you shout, pushing them away from each other and creating a safe distance between. Your tears had already run dry, replaced by the trembling terror shaking your limbs.

“Don’t worry about us Dove,” Remus manages to voice through gritted teeth, his glowering eyes never leaving Sirius’, “you can leave and we’ll sort this out,”

“Sort this out like usual huh?—”

“—Don’t taunt me, Sirius,”

“That won’t solve anything, you idiot!” Sirius flings his arms up and James just barely manages to pull you away from being accidentally hit. Neither of the two seem to notice and James expresses his apology in lovingly nuzzling your temple, his lips puckering to kiss your skin but refraining and stepping away abruptly. You try not to feel the heartache his actions elicit in you.

“SHUT UP!” you’ve never heard Remus sound so angry and venomous before, it makes your heart stutter in fear and worry. You can’t leave now; this disagreement can’t end well without some form of intervention and James isn’t fairing too well with that – he needs someone there for him too, just to feel, somewhat, grounded through all of this, “She doesn’t have to hear all of this!”

“We wouldn’t have to be saying ‘all of this’ if you had. Just. LISTENED. TO. ME!”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?!” Sirius growls lowly, his countenance scrunching up into a foul expression —an antithesis to his elegant features, “I’ll show you!” it was then that Sirius turns to face you and approaches with purpose in his long strides, unstopping like he did earlier when outside the studio.

“SIRIUS—!”

Sirius backs you up into the wall behind you, “—Everything Could Have Been As Easy As Doing This!” you didn’t know what to prepare yourself for but Sirius firmly gripping your chin and pulling you into a deep kiss was not one of them. In your shock, you let out a surprised but muffled moan, slowly falling into the blissful embrace and reciprocating eagerly.

Did you faint earlier? Was this all a dream?...

…Dream or not, you like this very much!

James and Remus watch at the bold display, disbelief shining clear in their eyes as Sirius has his way with you. But you don’t see them, you don’t see anyone or anything, all you know is that Sirius kisses like an experienced lover from fantasy and he wasn’t shy about loving you up. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you let Sirius guide them over your head to cuff your wrists together with his large hand, his other snaking around your waist to pull you closer and deepen the kiss.

He tastes like spearmint gum and smokey cigarette smoke, his lips tinted in cherry lip balm for sweetness. What an addictive taste. You can’t get enough.

But air is a necessity and just as you were beginning to run out of breath, Sirius pulls away, panting heavily. He doesn’t wait for a single second to pass before diving his head into your neck, where he peppers feathery but fervid kisses along your sensitive skin and smiles to himself when you slip out a moan. You sound beautiful. He needs to hear more. Sirius doesn’t stop, he sucks and licks and kisses and nuzzles along your neck like the tease he is, drawing out every quivering whimper and pretty moan you were desperately trying to contain.

You keep your eyes tightly shut, too embarrassed to meet the eyes of Remus or James. Their gaze on you left behind a searing, phantom mark that developed into a displeasing itch. An itch that could only be satisfied if they kissed you too.

…So selfish. God! When will you stop?!

Ashamed of your gradually increasing volume, you seal your mouth shut in a stubborn attempt to suppress your pleasure. How did his lips and tongue feel so good on your skin? His touch made your knees weak and your legs shake, without his support, you don’t think you would stay standing for long.

Just as you were able to swallow every embarrassing sound that tried to escape, James was beside you, his warm breath on your cheek as he silently urged Sirius to give way, “you need help staying quiet, angel?” he whispers and doesn’t wait for an answer, briefly meeting your eyes before he’s closing them to kiss you sweetly. It started off sweet. Sweet and loving like James before suddenly becoming very dominating and overwhelming. You were being devoured and the thought was undeniably arousing. They were both on you, Sirius kissing away at your neck as James savoured the taste of your lips before bullying his way into your awaiting mouth. He swallowed your moans for you as Sirius defiantly persisted, urging you with seductive lips to make more.

Overwhelmed but so content.

You were drowning in bliss and you never wanted to break away from it.

“DIDN’T I SAY!” Remus shouts, stopping all activity and leaving you strung up high as the boys slowly pull away, not too far but enough for all of you to meet Remus’ unreadable stare. The boys look over their shoulder to observe their commanding lover, their large frames tense before moving their eyes down and slowly smirking, the tension evaporating off their figures as you’re left to rebuild another tower of anxiety from your lower stomach, “Didn’t. I. Say. We. Were. Going. To. Savour. Her?”

What?

Your shocked, wide-eyed stare meets Remus’ cool and, almost, unfeeling gaze. Once again, your knees buckled under you and you were caught by Sirius and James. Held in place by their hot, firm hands and the press of their toned physiques.

What did he just say?

Unable to keep his stare, your eyes slowly fall down the tall brunette’s figure. Capturing his beautiful, full lips; taking in the delicious column on his neck; observing the wide expanse of his shoulders and chest; drifting down to gulp at his veiny arms and hands before landing on...

Oh~

A/N : no fluff, but something better right? a little sneak peak on how i write spicy things but it's readable hehe~

NEXT. | 07 : APOLOGISE AND COMFORT →

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS MASTERLIST

TAGLIST : @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @mangodamochiii @queerqueenlynn @l3xiluve @brain-has-left @bunbunbl0gs @kneelforloki @citrusiove @virtualbuni @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @that1nerd-20 @wolfstar4everbitches @skepvids @dearmy-diary @littledollfacebaby @mylifeisnothing @em16cor @krazyk99 @imdoingbetternow @realalpacorn @remussbitch @swiftieeras1989 @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @canthavetoomuchchaos @rckstrbee @b-i-h-i @ennycutie @kneelforloki @theteaobsessedbug @padfoot1313 @d1gital-data @venezsuwayla @melllinaa

#poly marauders x reader #marauders x reader #poly marauders x you #poly marauders #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #remus x reader #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #the marauders #marauders #wolfstar #heroes in tattoos series #HIT : series

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flowerandblood · 3 months

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The Knight & The Judge

[ modern Frollo • Aemond x Esmeralda • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination and humiliation kink, description of physical and mental disabilities, prejudices against disabled people, aggressive behavior, violence, swearing, trauma, mention of an accident with fatalities ]

[ description: After a car accident, his brother has to deal with the consequences of what happened, and he, as his protector, does not know how to help him. His sister comes up with the idea of hiring someone as his carer who will be able to cheer him up and occupy his mind. It turns out, however, that the girl he hired charmed not only his younger brother. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension, dark, malicious Aemond. ]

Author's note: This story is a request, but I decided to freely use what I liked in the book and Disney film to create a new, disturbing story taking place in modern times. It is intended to be uncomfortable and will contain scenes that are at least morally questionable, in my version "Esmeralda" is not Romanian. This story will also include motifs from Jane Eyre, which was a separate request. My story will also touch on the problems of people with disabilities, so if these are sensitive topics for you, I advise against reading further. You have been warned.

Part 2 − The Sin & The Penance

Part 3 − The Doubt & The Delight

Epilogue

Main Characters Moodboard

Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

On that day it seemed to him that the whole world had turned against him. His coffee machine had broken down, there was more traffic than usual on the roads, he was sure he would be late for work, and his brother had woken up in a mood worse than always and cried all the way to the centre.

"I don't want to go there. I-I'm scared of some of those kids." He muttered under his breath, swallowing loudly, whooping with tears. He looked at him in the mirror, feeling a squeeze in his throat every morning when he left him there, but saw no other alternative.

He still hadn't recovered mentally after what had happened five years ago and, according to his psychiatrist, he wasn't ready to attend a normal school until he gained more confidence.

He did not want to force him to listen to unpleasant comments, however, he felt uncomfortable himself.

The centre was huge, classes were taught in different groups of matched children, however, there were times when Daeron encountered kids with a spectrum of disabilities other than physical and was simply afraid of them.

He tried to explain it to him, but how was a child supposed to understand these complicated, sometimes even uncontrollable behaviours and screams?

He swallowed hard, leaning the back of his head against the backrest, turning on the right indicator with his hand, driving into the car park of the building where he would leave him for the time he spent at work, during which he studied and had various extra classes with children with problems similar to his.

However, was he to surround himself all his life only with children who had mobility problems, who had no arms or legs, who suffered from paresis or lack of feeling in their limbs?

Every time he thought about it he wanted to cry.

He turned off the engine, staring dully ahead, hearing his mother's screams again in the background of his mind as his father fainted behind the wheel and drove off the road into the other lane – he felt once again that hard crash with the big truck coming from the opposite direction that crushed them.

They were only alive because they were in the back seats at the time, Daeron, however, was not as lucky as he was.

Compared to what happened to his younger brother, the glass that smashed into the left side of his face was nothing.

"Mrs Thomson said you can't spend all day at home doing one-to-one tuition. You have to see other children." He calmly repeated the formula he said whenever such a situation arose, opening his door, heading for the boot of his big black SUV – the car dealership had told him it was the safest and biggest model they had.

He took out the small wheelchair that had been put together and unfolded it, driving it closer, to the back seat where his brother sat, opening it – he looked away, unable to watch his brother's weeping face.

"I'm already late for work. Please. I promise we'll play FIFA' 23 together when we get back. Hm?" He muttered, and Daeron nodded, pale, breathing loudly, using his hands to move slowly towards the wheelchair onto which he shifted the weight of his body, hissing loudly as he lifted his legs onto the special supports.

The bones of his little legs had been simply crushed then – he continued to grow, the rehabilitation was hard and caused him great pain.

He would have preferred it to be him who suffered like this and not an innocent child, but God, who he wasn't sure he still believed in despite the deep faith his mother had always instilled in him, decided otherwise.

He closed the car and moved with him to the main entrance, pushing his wheelchair forward. When they got inside they were greeted by a lady they knew very well, several of his friends waved to Daeron, one of them was paralysed from the waist down, the other was missing one arm.

He swallowed loudly, thinking that his brother had to watch someone else's misfortune every day, himself for sure feeling like a cripple, like someone defective, someone who was a burden, even though he loved him the most in the world.

The cruelty of the situation left him with a clenched throat, so he would usually only throw him a few words to say goodbye, stroke his head and leave, only by the car tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, his healthy eye burning from the moisture that gathered under his eyelids.

As he always did in moments of breakdown, he started the engine, selected the number of his sister phone on the display under his dashboard and, turning on loudspeaker mode, started backing his car as he tried to drive out of the car park and drove ahead towards the national prosecutor's office.

"Hello? Aemond, did something happen?"

He heard Helaena's soft, sleepy voice. He knew she was still doing overtime as a doctor, overworking herself as much as he was and thought that he had woken her up after the night shift.

He felt remorse for not being able to handle it himself, although she always reassured him that she would always help him as best she could.

She got Daeron the best possible physiotherapist so that he was even able to take a few steps in the last month while holding on to his supports, however it still caused him great pain, the doctors said his bones would continue to hurt as long as he grew.

Perpetual undeserved suffering.

"I don't know what to do anymore. He says he is afraid of some of the children, those with intellectual disabilities. I know it's cruel, but fuck, I'd be scared of some of them too. Do they have to see each other in the same building, pass each other in the corridor? Shouldn't they be separated somehow?"

"God, Aemond, they're not animals. After all, they're children too." She said with sadness and resentment – he clenched his eye, sighing impatiently, trying to focus on the road again, tense.

"I know. I know. I really feel for them, but it's bad for his psyche. He recently asked me if he was normal, if he too would start shouting and babbling like them. That sometimes they are aggressive and the carers have to drag them away from him and his friends."

"It's horrible. Maybe he really should go there less often?" She asked sighing quietly, he heard her rise up on the bed with a quiet creak of the mattress.

"And what, he's going to sit at home with some boring old teacher? How will I know that no harm comes to him in my absence?" He asked resignedly, hearing silence on the other side for some time.

"Maybe find someone who won't be very distant in age. Someone who won't just teach him, but play with him and spend time with him. Someone old enough to be responsible for him and at the same time young enough not to feel so distant. Someone joyful." She replied, and he rolled his eyes as he drove into the underground car park of his office building.

"Joyful? I am supposed to pay someone to be joyful?" He sneered, shaking his head, his sister sighed again.

"He needs it, Aemond. We're all tired, and he's a child."

He hung up after a few minutes of further discussion, telling her he had to go, grabbed the case folders he'd just brought in and headed for the underground lift. He pressed the button showing the floor he wanted to move to when a woman's hand stopped the sliding doors, which opened a moment later.

Alys smiled broadly at him as she stepped inside with a confident stride – her high black heels emphasised how slender and long her legs were, her fitted, waist high pencil trousers and black blazer with a beautiful white shirt underneath highlighted both her confidence and her attractiveness.

He remembered the last few times the thrusts of his hips had pushed her into her desk, bent over and helpless, with firm, wide buttocks on which he tightened his fingers as he panted heavily, watching what he was doing to her, rooting into her again and again, thinking with mockery and amusement how easy it was to make a mere whore out of such a proud woman.

"Good morning, Mr Prosecutor." She said softly, contentment and calmness on her face, several of their intense close-ups had clearly left an intense mark in her, not just physical.

She liked the violent and determined ones, he knew that – she hid her age well and apparently decided that this was the last moment in her life when she could reach for what she wanted.

"Good morning, Miss Rivers." He replied calmly, uninterested in her ambiguous look, apparently suggesting that she wouldn't mind if what happened between them was repeated a few more times.

He was all about the sex. He was frustrated in this aspect – his artificial eye, although perfectly colour-matched to the other and the still clearly visible scar from where the glass pierced in, were a source of his complexes and shame.

He knew that no matter how perfect a professional he was, it was his appearance that made the first impression.

He preferred them to fear him rather than pity him.

In the courtroom he still struggled to be taken seriously so much so that his cold, calculating, ruthless nature began to frighten some – his judgement and questioning was harsh and lacking in compassion.

He knew exactly what he wanted and strove to get it.

His superiors quickly appreciated how skilful a lawyer he was and his ability to bring cases to an end and push whoever he needed to, hence he quickly moved to the National Prosecutor's Office, where more responsibilities and more money awaited him, which he could spend on Daeron's rehabilitation.

As he sat over the files he thought hard about what his sister had told him and decided that he would install CCTV in the house and then hire someone on a trial basis to see if it made sense.

He put up an anonymous job ad not wanting anyone to recognise him, described briefly his broad expectations and his rate per hour.

It turned out that dozens of people responded to his ad, just as he suspected attracted by the sum he had quoted, but he didn't know how he was supposed to sort them to choose the ones that seemed best to him. He began to read their answers, figuring that already from them he could deduce what types of personalities they were.

I am interested. My phone number is below.

Reject, he thought, clicking the red button informing the message sender that his offer was not accepted, and began to scroll further.

I am a carer with 10 years of experience. I have already cared for 14-year-old Mike with cerebral palsy, Adam with….

Reject, he clicked again.

He had no intention of making his home a second centre for the disabled.

He felt frustration and rage when he found that most of the messages were similar and just as empty in their tone, nothing convinced him about these people.

He knew Daeron wouldn't want to stay with them, and neither would he.

He stopped at one of the messages that looked completely different and blinked.

Good morning! I saw your ad and thought I would speak up. I'm a student, I'm studying costume design at the Faculty of Fine Arts. I'm looking for a casual job and I really enjoy working with children, I teach dressmaking as part of the teaching section of my university classes. I think that helping your brother with his studies at primary school level would be no problem for me at all, and I would also be happy to come up with different extra-curricular activities with him. Even if you decide not to hire me, I would like to sew your brother a costume of his favourite super hero, without any payment of course. You would just have to give me his measurements. I don't think anything makes kids his age happier!!! My warmest regards and I am sending my email below.

He looked at her message not too sure how he felt, at the same time being impressed, on the other hand feeling the seed of uncertainty and extreme caution characteristic of him when it came to his approach to newly met people.

What if this was a psychological tactic to make him believe her to be innocent and unselfish? To make him subconsciously choose her because she was the only one offering him something for free? If it was just her free promotion?

He chose two people reluctantly, but kept coming back to her message, trying to imagine her, seeing some crazy painting student looking like a hippie.

Maybe this was just what he needed? He thought with regret and sighed heavily, opening a new window in his inbox, writing her a short, brief email to appear at their house in a few days' time.

He was going to interrogate her.

The young man before her immediately made him uneasy – he had the impression that he smelled weed from him even though he had taken a shower, so he must have been smoking like crazy, and he had no intention of letting anyone who might encourage him to use any stimulants look after his brother.

The other girl was very frightened – his questions clearly startled her and made her uncomfortable, it frustrated him that she was barely able to make a sound. He thought she had something to hide, that people who have a clear conscience don't behave this way.

He thought with resignation that all he had left was a mad artist.

He sighed heavily as he heard the bell ring suggesting that someone was standing outside the gate. He walked over to the intercom and opened it, seeing in the small monitor a petite girl with dark, slightly wavy hair tied up in a ponytail.

He thought in disbelief that she was dressed for a job interview in a white turtleneck, dungarees and trainers, a fabric floral back on her back.

What the fuck, he thought, opening her door with a cold, indifferent expression on his face.

"Good afternoon." She said softly, a wide smile on her face. Before she walked in she wiped her shoes on the doormat, which pleased him. When she came inside she wanted to take off her trainers – he looked at her surprised, thinking she must be crazy.

"No, you don't have to. You can stay in your shoes." He said lowly, pointing towards the armchair, indicating to her with his hand the seat on the couch next to him.

She sat down in the seat he showed her, looking boldly straight into his eyes, her cheeks rosy with emotion.

She was clearly a tad nervous after all, he thought, musing for a moment that she had incredibly long, dark eyelashes.

"Do you have experience in working with children?" He asked immediately; she blinked and corrected herself in her seat, as if prepared for the question.

"Only in terms of working with them in sewing workshops." She answered simply, without any further explanation, which pleased him.

She was letting him draw his own conclusions, rather than imposing them on him so as to present herself in the most favourable light.

"My brother has mobility problems. How do you imagine helping him, for example, if he needs to go to the bathroom?"

"I think he's old enough that he can tell me himself what he'll need help with and what he won't, and what he'll feel comfortable for me to help him with and when he'll want me to leave." She said without thinking, shrugging her shoulders as if it was obvious. He squinted, intrigued that she was allowing herself to say unthoughtful things in front of him, as if she wasn't afraid of the consequences they might bring.

"And your studies? How will you have so much time to come here?"

"From what I understand, I would be expected to turn up on Tuesdays and Thursdays from eight in the morning until sixteen. I have practice classes then, the costumes I'm sewing I can bring with me and finish them while he's eating or watching something, maybe he'll even like it and want to practice with me?"

"What will you do if I don't hire you?" He asked dryly and she looked at him surprised, a light smile on her face indicating that his words didn't worry her.

"Then I will continue to work in the café. But my words about the superhero costume stand. Even if I can't work for you, sir, I would like to meet him and give him something. Children can be so brave." She said softly with sincere, bright joy and some kind of pride, as if Daeron was her brother and not his, something in her innocence, something in her attitude endeared him.

He could smell a lie a mile away, she wouldn't be able to pretend so well even if she were an actress.

These reactions were natural, she was saying exactly what she was thinking about.

"I will contact you once I have made my decision." He said indifferently, getting up from his seat and pointing with his hand towards the exit, suggesting that their conversation was over.

She stood up and smiled, undaunted by his behaviour or the length of their conversation. Both of them flinched when Daeron appeared in the living room, pushing the wheels of his wheelchair with a light flick of his hand.

"Good afternoon. Who is this lady?" His younger brother asked him, obvious curiosity on his face. He swallowed loudly and glanced at her – she answered nothing but waved at him vigorously, Daeron smiled shyly and waved her back, embarrassed.

"No one. I needed to talk to her." He replied, opening the door for her. She said a polite goodbye to him and his brother, waving at him once more, Daeron waved her back again, looking at him with questioning eyes as he closed it.

"I like her. She seems fun."

With no other choice, he decided he would give her a chance.

The first day she was to be left alone with Daeron he was all nerves despite the fact that his little brother hadn't seemed this excited to him in many years. He told him about his toys and the cartoons he was going to show her.

"First the lessons. Then two hours to play and free time." He replied dryly, tense, glancing at his watch, thinking with rage that she only had fifteen minutes left, that she was sure to be late or not come and leave him in the lurch when he had already cancelled his presence at the centre's classes.

They both flinched when they heard the bell ring; Daeron said, moving briskly forward in his wheelchair that he wanted to open for her and indeed, after a moment the girl he had hired appeared on the doorstep of their house, smiling and content – her cheeks flushed again, her dark hair loose, pleasantly framing her bright face, on her body only a black top and tracksuit shorts as it was a sunny, warm spring morning.

"Good morning, Daeron, nice to meet you!" She said with fondness and satisfaction in her voice, extending her hand in front of her, which his brother shook confidently. Daeron moved ahead of her, glancing over his shoulder at her.

"Come, I'll show you my room. I'll explain everything to you." He said, rolling his wheelchair up to the door, which was located on the ground floor of their house so that he could move around easily. The girl nodded, pulling her trainers off her feet, saying that she will come to him in a minute.

He took the opportunity to walk up to her, towering over her, and she threw him a quick surprised look.

He thought her eyes seemed even bigger than before, he wasn't sure if they were blue or green, both colours blending into one.

"You are to take care of him. I want you to go through all the material that was prepared for today. Only two hours of free time, no more. Behave responsibly and only call if it's really urgent or if something happens to him." He said matter-of-factly, and she swallowed quietly, nodding quickly, clearly horrified by how close he stood and how cold his voice was.

Good, he thought.

He wanted her to be afraid of the consequences of her actions.

He sat in the office all day terrified, stressed and unsure, trying to focus on the file in front of him, while involuntarily still glancing at his phone, checking to see if she might have called him.

Was everything okay? What if something had happened but she was afraid to call him? Maybe he should go home and test her, see what was going on?

He thought he would go mad if he didn't, so he left work an hour early – Alys threw something at him as he walked past her, probably something about a meeting or an evening out together, but he didn't answer her, heading for the stairs and the underground car park.

He drove forward, trying to calm himself down, thinking about how oversensitive he was, that surely everything was fine.

He pulled up in front of their house hearing music in the distance, wondering if any of the neighbours were having a party outside at this hour.

However, as he pressed the key to the gate and it slowly swung open he saw in disbelief the girl he had hired riding with lightness and grace on roller skates in his driveway to the tune of the Scissor Sisters song Don't Feel Like Dancin. Daeron laughed out loud, spinning beside her in his wheelchair, both of them wearing elbow and knee pads, in addition to his little brother wearing a bike helmet on his head.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He got out of the car, furiously slamming the door, his brother wheeled up to him briskly, his companion spinning slowly around them on roller skates – she raised her eyebrows with a smile, seeing the look on his face and waved at him.

"Look how well I dance, brother!" Exclaimed Daeron, spinning the wheels of his wheelchair around his own axis again.

He, however, instead of looking at him grabbed aggressively the arm of his carer who was doing another spin – she nearly fell over because of his tug and caught him abruptly by his jacket in an attempt to catch her balance.

"Ah!"

"What the fuck are you doing? Is this what I pay you for?" He growled and shook her hard. She stared at him with wide-open eyes, her lips slightly parted in accelerated breathing from fear, her face red from exertion, strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks.

"Let me go, sir. I will not speak to you like this." She said warningly, her brow furrowed. He pressed his lips together noticing that something had changed in her gaze, suddenly confident and angry, ready to fight if necessary.

He felt that look in his trousers, he'd never had the urge to slap a woman's ass as hard as hers before.

He glanced at his brother, who was looking at him in horror, only realising after a moment that the song had long since ended and there was a tense, awkward silence around them.

He let go of her arm, seeing with satisfaction that he had left a bruise on her skin in the shape of his fingers – she massaged at the spot, furrowing her brow.

"You're fired. You're irresponsible. Good thing I came back earlier." He said with mockery and fury, walking over to his brother, unbuckling the helmet he wore on his head. Daeron burst into a loud, uncontrollable sob.

"I don't want to. I don't want to, I don't want to go back there, I want to stay with her. It's my fault, I told her I wanted to dance, please, please, please, I want her to stay, I don't want to go back there." He babbled, running his hands over his shoulders in some helpless, childish pleading gesture from which he felt a squeeze in his throat. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, her gaze fixed on his little brother, sad and resigned – she was leaning over, untying the laces of the roller skates that had once belonged to his sister.

"Something could have happened to you. You could have fallen over and hit your head on the ground." He replied coldly, kneeling in front of him, unbuckling his knee pads.

"But I had a helmet on my head. After all, normal boys fall off bikes and stairs and they're fine! Nothing would have happened if I'd bruised myself a bit, I'm not made of glass!" He burst out suddenly with a fury he had never seen in him before, burying his little face in his hands, all red from tears and despair.

"I won't go back there, I won't go there tomorrow, if she doesn't stay, never, never again, I'd rather kill myself!" He whined out loud, falling into another attack of hysteria in recent months – he had trouble catching his breath, his lungs were wheezing all over. He took his face in his hands, but he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at him.

God, why?

"Remember what I told you?" She asked walking up to his brother in just her socks, kneeling beside him, grasping his hand. Daeron immediately fell silent, looking at her with wide eyes.

"That boy who calls you Quasimodo is just mean. You are my Phoebus, you have his beautiful hair, humour and valour. I'll sew us costumes and we'll go to the carnival ball together. His jaw will drop when he sees that you came with your Esmeralda. What do you say?" She asked softly, and he looked at her in disbelief, wondering if that was the reason his little brother didn't want to go there.

That boy who calls you Quasimodo.

He felt a twitch in his throat and swallowed loudly, his brother nodding quickly, drawing in air loudly, his eyes full of hope.

"Promise?" He asked in a trembling voice, and she smiled broadly, sincerely, squeezing his small hand.

"Promise."

They entered their house as his brother calmed down; he told Daeron to go to his room and leave them alone, which his brother eventually did with great reluctance, crying for a while longer, not wanting to say goodbye to her.

As soon as he heard the door close behind him at the end of the corridor he slipped his wallet out of the back pocket of his trousers, took out a few banknotes and threw them on the table in front of her in a careless gesture.

"Get the fuck out of my house." He said coldly, looking her straight in the eye. He saw her lower lip twitch, the pain of humiliation in her gaze, her eyebrows arched in disbelief that such words had left his mouth.

He wasn't paying her to make a circus of herself dancing like some fucking Esmeralda, exposing his brother to danger and injury.

He pressed his lips into a thin line and trembled with rage as she took the money and tossed it in his direction, the banknotes flying scattered around his feet.

"You could dress up as Frollo for the carnival ball, sir. It would suit you." She said drily, turning away tensely – he moved behind her, feeling anger buzzing strongly in his veins at her words.

He grabbed her by the neck with an aggressive flick of his hand and slammed her back against the wall, her voice stuck in her throat in horror, her big, bright eyes open wide in disbelief.

He took a step closer to her, feeling her warm body quiver all over in his grasp, digging his fingertips deeper into her skin, finding with delight that she was obscenely soft.

"Do you have anything else to say?" He asked in a low whisper filled with threat – she shook her head quickly clearly feeling the situation was out of her control, obviously fearing if he was really going to do something to her.

"No, are you sure? I'm listening to you. Tell me something else interesting about me." He said softly, encouragingly, moving even closer to her, the tips of their noses almost touching.

He could finally get a good look at her and he found curiously that he still couldn't tell what colour her eyes were, now slightly reddened from tears of fear.

She shook her head quickly, not making a sound; all he could hear was their quickened, raspy breaths, her hand touched his wrist as if she wanted to make sure he didn't strangle her.

He was somehow delighted by how delicate, long and slender her fingers were, feeling a pleasant pulsing in his trousers at the thought.

"Look at you. So silly. Because you're a silly little girl, aren't you? You would benefit from someone teaching you a lesson. No? Then apologise and I'll let you go and pretend I never met you." He said calmly, her whole body quivering with terror.

"Never." She said quietly, and he felt involuntarily that his lips curved in a dangerous, satisfied grin, his fingers clenching tighter around her neck.

"You're asking for trouble, Esmeralda." He muttered lowly, her nostrils twitching in accelerated breath.

"I will report what you are doing to the police." She said dryly and he smiled even wider, feeling her tremble all over as he leaned over her ear, his nose sinking into her soft, flower-scented hair – he closed his eyes and savoured the experience for a moment before whispering something she froze from.

"I am a prosecutor −"

Her hand clenched tighter on his wrist, a moan of despair escaping her lips, as if what he had said had really shocked her, as if she was only now realising what she had gotten herself into.

"− and I've never lost a case yet." He whispered in her ear, sliding his face lower, to her jaw and then to her neck, pressing his full lips to her skin, leaving wet, hot marks on it. He heard her draw in a loud breath.

"− w-what are you doing, sir? − no −" She whimpered, he felt her lift her arms up in a defensive gesture, trying to pull away from him, but he pressed her against the wall with his body, letting go of her neck, his erection throbbing hard in his trousers, pressing again and again against her stomach.

She felt it, a terrified cry escaped her lips as his lips pressed tightly against her neck – he began to suck painfully hard on her skin, wanting to leave her a crimson reminder of himself.

"− how did you put it? − who do I remind you of? −" He asked tauntingly, running his rough tongue over her red skin, feeling the veins pulsing rapidly under her soft, warm skin.

"− I'm sorry − I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry − please, please let me go −" She mumbled out in despair on the verge of crying, her voice trembling all over in terror, her breathing raspy and uneven, her small hands clenched on the material of his black turtleneck that he wore under his jacket.

He gasped at her words, sliding his mouth lower, repeating the same process, rubbing against her with his hips – his cock was all swollen and hard, pulsing with pleasure, his hands roaming down her back, sliding at last to her buttocks where they clenched.

"− look at you − so you can be polite after all, hm? −" He asked softly, lowering the material of her tracksuit shorts a little, his large hand grasping her plump, firm buttocks and slapping it hard – she clamped her lips together, trying to hold back the whimper that squeezed its way down her throat.

"− that's what I thought − turn around and let's get this over with −" He murmured, soothingly massaging the place that was now pulsing from his slap, grinning as she did so wordlessly, tears of helplessness and fear on her cheeks.

"− please −" She muttered and he sighed softly, sliding the material of her shorts and underwear down, revealing what was underneath – she shuddered and wept quietly as the tips of his fingers ran over her swollen folds, focusing their pressure on her sweet spot hidden between them, digging into her fleshy skin in circular, calm motions.

"− shhh − this way it will be easier for both of us −" He explained in a soft tone of voice, as if he was telling her something obvious, as if it would benefit her in the future and teach her something.

He heard her shy moan full of fear, then another, a tad louder as his fingers sank more firmly into her skin. He licked his lips at the sight of the wetness that began to leak slowly from inside her and slapped his hand with a short, rough movement into the space between her thighs.

"− quiet −" He ordered, and she pressed her lips together, stifling whatever wanted to come out of them. Daeron was far away, locked in his room, but he still preferred him not to hear anything, and he didn't have the time or desire to take her upstairs to his bedroom.

This situation, her bent figure and her lovely buttocks pushed up towards him, suited him completely.

"− good girl − see? − it's not that hard −" He murmured pleased with how obedient she was despite the fear and terror from which her whole body was twitching. The confident movements of his fingers were accompanied by the louder and louder click of her moisture, her cheek pressed against the cold wall where her hands were helplessly trying to find support in this position, her eyes closed as if she just wanted to wait it out.

She opened them when she heard the sound of his zipper being opened – her lips pressed together with difficulty as he guided the fat, swollen head of his throbbing cock against her opening, leaning with his free hand against the wall just above her head, trying to force it between her tight folds with the motion of his hips.

"− wider − that's it, there you go −" He exhaled as she opened her thighs a little more and he spread her wide on his cock, feeling her muscles gave him a wonderful squeeze – he sighed loudly, surprised at how pleasurable the sensation was.

"− fuck −" He hissed out, clamping his hands on her buttocks, spreading them like a ripe fruit; she squirmed in discomfort as he forced her to take him deeper inside her, filling her so much that he felt like he was going to rip her skin apart.

"− barely fits −" He scoffed, moving his hips back and forth with a splat of her moisture dripping down her thighs – he heard her begin to pant along with him as he deliberately rubbed against her lower wall just above her very entrance, teasing the spot inside her from which her whole body was quivering.

"− here? − do you want me to fuck you here, little one? −" He gasped as he stretched her skin enough to fit all of him inside her, rooting into her again and again with increasingly brutal thrusts of his hips, digging his fingertips into her buttocks, looking at the spot where their bodies joined, at her muscles clenching against him greedily in panic, sucking him inside.

"− please −" She cried out, squeezing her eyes shut, her lips parted in disbelief at how pleasurable and terrifying the experience was. He sank his hand into her soft, dark hair and tilted her head back, burying his nose in the hot skin of her cheek, speeding up, stretching her weeping folds with a loud, lewd slaps of his thighs against her buttocks.

"− use full sentences −" He commanded, his other hand from her hip slid down between her thighs – she squirmed helplessly as his fingers sank again into her fleshy skin, sticky from her moisture, teasing her clit with circular, slow motions.

"− here − fuck me here, sir −" She mumbled with difficulty in a voice trembling with exertion, her cheeks all red, the beautiful curls of her dark hair clinging to her sweaty face – he felt with satisfaction that her hips began to respond to his eager thrusts.

"− good girl − that's my good girl −" He breathed out with a quiet groan of pleasure, seeing and feeling her walls squeeze his fat cock at his praise – he licked his lips thinking that Alys had never responded to him the way she did, so frightened and aroused at the same time, relying only on his mercy, his goodwill.

"− you understand that this is necessary, don't you? − that you need to be taught a lesson −" He muttered, feeling that he was losing his temper, thrusting into her so fast that he was barely slipping out of her, slamming into her again and again, his cock throbbing with desire, signalling to him that his peak was coming, her wonderful scent filling his lungs.

"− y-yes − yes, I'm sorry −" She mumbled out –he wasn't sure if she was saying what he wanted to hear or if she really believed it herself for a second, but she clamped her eyelids shut and spread her mouth wide, helpless, girlish, sweet moan of relief burst from her throat as she came, sucking and squeezing his cock, soaking it in her moisture. He sighed in relief when, after a few desperate, deep slaps he spilled inside her, feeling the wave of hot pleasure shake his body.

"− fuck − oh, God, little one −" He muttered, their bodies involuntarily moving for a moment longer, wanting to prolong this surprisingly shocking experience, both of them panting embarrassingly loudly, her body trembling all over – if his arm hadn't been holding her around the waist she would have fallen for sure, her legs completely numb.

He looked down at their joined bodies, his half-hard, throbbing manhood sinking into her again and again, all sticky from his semen and her wetness.

He swallowed loudly, sliding out of her slowly, realising now what he had actually done to her – he heard her quiet hiss of discomfort and sigh of relief, her face flushed from exertion and tears.

"− are you all right? −" He asked in a trembling voice, quickly zipping up his trousers, her shaking hands slipping her underwear and shorts back onto her buttocks.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled in embarrassment, horror and disbelief, not looking at him, in some automatic gesture reaching for her trainers, putting them quickly on her feet.

"Come back on Thursday as we agreed before." He muttered, feeling the rapid pounding of his heart and the panic rising inside him, a complete void in his mind.

What had he done?

"I can assure you that you will never see me again." She whispered in a trembling, broken voice, quickly put her backpack on her back and walked out, slamming the door, leaving him with complete silence, remorse and horror.

He pressed his forehead against the wall, hiding his face in his hands, and burst into tears like a small child.

How could he treat a strange, innocent girl like this?

What if she didn't take her pills, what if she got pregnant?

How could he have been so irresponsible?

What if she really does report it to the police?

I'll destroy her, he thought with a bitter certainty that, after a moment, turned again into terror, regret and shame.

He grabbed his phone quickly and dialled her number, wanting to beg her forgiveness, but she didn't answer. He sat down on the couch and drew in the air loudly, devastated, not recognising himself, realising what kind of man he was.

He laughed desperately, shaking his head, thinking with painful amusement how well she had judged him.

He didn't even have to pretend.

He was like Frollo.

_____

Author's note: Many of you may believe that Quasimodo is the best and most worthy of imitation character, not Phoebus, and this is true when it comes to the book, but I assume that if anything, Daeron at this age has only seen a Disney fairy tale, in which Phoebus is a handsome man with a noble heart. The whole idea of this scene, in which the heroine says that he will be her Phoebus and she will be his Esmeralda, is that Daeron wants to see himself not only as a person with a disability, but as someone handsome, a warrior that a woman could love one day. It's easy to understand how children's minds work and why his works this way, and his "Esmeralda" only wants to help him become the person he wants to be and encourages him not to give up on these dreams and this self-image.

_____

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yinses · 1 year

Text

amaretto mirage

pairing: [modern]gn! reader x hantengu clones (sekido, karaku, aizetsu, urogi) wc: 10k+ rating: mature (for this part) a/n: the PLAN is two, maybe three parts. then possibly some accompanying drabbles if i haven't burned myself out

[also available to read on ao3] synopsis: you, a simple student, finds yourself caught in a sensual game between a quadruplet of brothers, leading you down a path of self-discovery and forbidden desires.

"oh, aizetsu, wait for me please," you call out as you hurry to catch up to your friend. the sun beats down relentlessly, casting harsh shadows across the pavement, and the air is thick with the scent of exhaust and the sound of honking cars. you can feel beads of sweat trickling down your back, and the weight of your backpack seems to increase with every step.

as you draw closer to aizetsu, you take a moment to study him. his tall, lean frame is relaxed and unhurried, and his sky-blue eyes twinkle with a serene kind of patience that you find both calming and exhilarating. you can't help but wonder how he manages to maintain such an air of composure in the midst of the chaos that surrounds you.

with a sigh, you turn your attention back to your own worries. the never-welcomed midterm finals loom ahead, and you feel a familiar sense of panic rising within you. despite being in your fourth and final year, you still feel woefully unprepared. your scattered notes are a testament to your haphazard studying habits, and you know you'll pay for it later with a headache.

as you walk alongside aizetsu, you reflect on the years of hard work and dedication that have brought you to this point. you've managed to maintain decent enough grades, but deep down, you know that the credit isn't fully yours. in recent months, you owed a large portion to the man beside you.

you first met aizetsu during your sophomore year, but looking back on your freshman year, you couldn't recall his face as easily. his presence had been shrouded by what you knew of his brother, urogi, the school's star basketball player.

it wasn't until someone mentioned the relation between the two that aizetsu finally showed up on your radar. but that's really where the likeness ended. it was true that physically they shared the same complexion and hair, but their eyes and personalities couldn't be more different.

you remember marveling at the biological mystery of how one brother could have eyes that mimicked the sun while the other had a pair that mirrored the ocean. it made mountains more sense than the floating superstitions of demonic energy that your classmates liked to loft around. and apparently, aizetsu had two other brothers who also had differing eye colors. they were all quadruplets.

so yeah, given that anomaly, you were okay with blaming biology. but what you knew of urogi was that he was boisterous and confident, a fitting temperament to balance out his presence on the court. aizetsu, on the other hand, was best described as the opposite, which would be quite fitting if they were only twins. he was not rude per se, but decidedly introverted, keeping to himself and maintaining a low tone. most noticeably, where urogi was always boasting a bright smile, aizetsu was more solemn.

"sorry, you said you didn't have anything planned after this, right? i won't hold you up, but i wanted to get you something for your help," you say, breaking the comfortable silence.

aizetsu's face remained inscrutable, his blue eyes calculating as he spoke. "we share similar classes. it is an equal exchange."

your heart fluttered in your chest at the sound of his voice. he was always so patient with you, despite the vast gap in your intellect. aizetsu was undoubtedly a genius, while you had to work tirelessly to keep up with the coursework. you knew he could manage on his own, but he chose to help you anyway.

gratitude and admiration swelled within you, only further cementing your desire to show him your appreciation. you weren't sure why he chose to befriend you, but you treasured his company nonetheless.

"it's nothing big," you said, attempting to downplay your intentions. your meager budget didn't afford much extravagance. "we can go to the cafe on campus. we don't have to sit down or anything. just grab something on the way."

your heart raced as you offered, hoping that he wouldn't see through your poorly veiled attempt to treat him. you couldn't help but feel nervous at the prospect of him rejecting your gesture or worse yet, interpreting it as something more than just gratitude.

aizetsu's gaze bore into you, and you held your breath in anticipation.

"alright, if you insist," he finally acquiesced.

relief washed over you as you smiled gratefully, thanking him for accepting your offer. you couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest at the thought of spending more time with him. but you pushed those feelings aside, not wanting to ruin the delicate balance of your friendship

⚘. ⚘. ⚘.

as aizetsu made the decision to sit down and order rather than grab and go, you felt a wave of nervous energy course through your body. you tried to remain composed, reminding yourself that this wasn't a date but merely a gesture of gratitude. you were pleasantly surprised that he had even agreed to come in the first place.

despite having known each other for months, you still struggled to describe your relationship with aizetsu. you were more than acquaintances, but not quite friends. your interactions were confined to the classroom and the library, but the countless hours spent studying together had brought you closer than you thought possible.

as you sat across from aizetsu, you couldn't help but fidget in your seat. the atmosphere was charged with a sense of anticipation, as if this small outing held more significance than either of you let on. you desperately hoped that this would be a step towards building a stronger friendship, one that could survive beyond graduation.

the cafe was cozy, with warm yellow lighting casting a soft glow over the wooden tables and chairs. the faint aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods wafted through the air, mingling with the chatter of other patrons. you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort in this space, as if it were a sanctuary away from the stresses of academia.

as aizetsu ordered his drink, his eyes flicked over to you briefly before returning to the menu. you felt a flutter in your chest at the brief moment of eye contact, wondering if he was feeling the same sense of anticipation as you were.

as aizetsu's attention snaps back to you, you catch a glimpse of a camera flash and the click of a shutter from the corner of your eye. you shake your head, dismissing it as a trick of the light or your imagination. you turn your focus back to the conversation, discussing your tentative plans for the final semester and how you hope to broaden your knowledge in your major. aizetsu listens attentively, nodding and interjecting his own insights with ease.

suddenly, the serene ambiance of the cafe is shattered as a new figure emerges. when you look up, you find another version of aizetsu standing over the table. without even meeting him, you know this must be urogi, aizetsu's brother. his boisterous presence immediately fills the room, causing heads to turn and eyes to follow him. his eyes lock onto you, roving over you with unabashed interest before he snorts and pulls out a chair, sitting down uninvited.

aizetsu's brow furrows,"now is not the time, urogi. go away."

urogi simply crosses his arms, grinning as he refuses to budge. "nah, this is too good," he retorts, his eyes sparkling with mischief. the air around you suddenly becomes charged with a mix of curiosity and tension.

suddenly there is another click and flash, but this time much closer as urogi snaps a photo of your face. as the flash of the camera dies down, you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. you wonder if urogi's laughter is directed towards you, or if he's simply amused by his own antics. you force a smile, trying to play it cool, but it's clear that he's rattled you.

he sees your expression and laughs, “don’t worry, i’m not doing anything weird with it. just sending it to my brothers. it's not often little aizetsu goes out on a date.”

aizetsu's reply is sharp,"urogi that's rude. you can't just do what you want like that." the other brother only shrugs and by the time he sets down his phone the damage is done.

the atmosphere of the cafe suddenly feels oppressive, as if the walls are closing in on you. you're acutely aware of the other customers, their eyes darting towards your table before quickly averting their gaze. the low hum of conversation seems to have evaporated, leaving only the sound of your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

despite your discomfort, you can't help but also feel sorry for aizetsu. you never expect and act of gratitude would draw this much attention.

“it’s not a date, i just wanted to thank him for his help this semester."

urogi seems disinterested in your explanation as he taps against his phone. “yeah, aizetsu isn’t going to let just anyone sit him down for a meal.” he says it so absently but with a tone of finality that furrows your brow.

you don't want aizetsu to get the wrong idea, or for anyone else to think that you're trying to pursue something more than friendship. but urogi seems uninterested in your explanation, preoccupied with his phone.

the firmnesss in his tone when he speaks of aizetsu only makes you more curious about the reserved genius. as the tension thickens between the brothers, you feel like an outsider looking in.

the atmosphere in the cafe shifts, the ambient noise fading into the background as the two siblings stare each other down. aizetsu's eyes are narrowed with determination, and you can sense that he's not going to back down. his brother, on the other hand, looks almost amused as he crosses his arms over his chest, tapping his foot impatiently.

you can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you, unsure of how to proceed. you glance between the two of them, searching for a way to ease the tension. aizetsu's voice breaks the silence, clear and firm. "they're not a crush, urogi. they're a friend. this was meant to be a treat for our study efforts, and you're ruining it."

urogi's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, his grin faltering slightly. "oh? just a friend?" he says, sounding almost disappointed. "well, that's a shame. i was hoping for some juicy gossip to share with the team."

you can feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at the implication, and you wonder how aizetsu is taking all of this. he seems unperturbed, however, his expression remaining resolute. "you're not getting anything, urogi. ."

there's a moment of tense silence before urogi finally relents, settling back into his chair with a sigh. "fine, fine. i'll behave. but you owe me one, little brother."

the tension in the air begins to dissipate, and you let out a breath you didn't even realize you were holding. the cafe noise returns to the foreground, and you take a sip of your drink to calm your nerves. you can't help but wonder how many other hidden tensions are lurking beneath the surface of aizetsu's life.

as the silence drags on, you begin to feel restless. you shift in your seat, trying to find a way to diffuse the tension. your eyes dart back and forth between the two brothers, unsure of what to say. finally, you clear your throat, hoping to break the stalemate.

"aizetsu doesn't get the chance to talk about his family often. i distract him too much with my countless questions on material," you say, hoping to shift the conversation to a more positive note.

your laugh however, cuts off uneasily as those golden eyes settle on you. a tug of something you cant describe pulls at his lips,”a distraction, i’m sure.” he studies you a moment longer, before reaching for the discarded menu. “well, let’s hear all about the person who has kept our brother occupied.”

aizetsu's focused gaze doesn't leave his brother, but you can sense the odd taste at the mention of his family. despite spending countless hours studying with him, you know little about his personal life. you wonder what secrets he keeps hidden behind those deep, contemplative eyes.

your attempt at lightening the mood with a joke falls flat, and you can feel the weight of the awkward silence settle over the table. your gaze falls to the table, the scratched surface now a blur beneath your fingertips as you twist them together nervously.

aizetsu's sudden attention startles you, and you raise your head to meet his gaze. the way his lips tug at the corners sends an unfamiliar jolt of something through you, but you can't put a name to it. his intense stare feels like a physical touch, sending shivers down your spine.

as he picks up his cup, you realize you've been staring too long. quickly, you avert your gaze, taking refuge in your own drink as if it can provide a shield from his penetrating gaze. aizetsu's calm tone breaks the silence, drawing your attention back to the conversation.

“given you don’t take your studies seriously, i’m not left with many options, urogi.”

urogi hums,”true. but that’s never stopped you before.”

your mind races to come up with a suitable response, but you find yourself at a loss for words. you clear your throat, hoping to regain some composure. "well, there's not much to tell. we're just friends, after all." the words sound weak even to your own ears, but they're the only ones that come to mind.

urogi snorts, leaning back in his chair. "just friends, huh? you're blushing like a bride, you know." his words are teasing, but you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks.

the intended outing for two has evolved into something you're not entirely sure how to describe. eventually, your waiter returns to take urogi’s order, not hiding their surprise well. but urogi is more attentive to you as he quizzes you on your hometown, studies, and interests.

"so, where are you from originally?" urogi asks, leaning forward in his seat.

"i'm from a small town south of here," you reply, feeling a little uneasy under his intense gaze.

"a small town, huh? what made you want to come to this big city for school?"

"i wanted to experience something new and different," you say with a shrug.

"i can respect that," urogi says with a nod. "what's your major?"

you share without pause.

"sounds cool. what kind of career are you hoping to have with that degree?" urogi asks, leaning back in his seat.

"i'm not really sure yet. i'm still exploring my options," you say with a smile.

meanwhile, aizetsu watches the two of you with a furrowed brow, clearly not thrilled with his brother's line of questioning. finally, he speaks up.

"urogi, can you stop talking so much for once? we came here to relax," he says pointedly.

urogi rolls his eyes but acquiesces. "fine, fine. but i have to ask. how about basketball? you're a big fan of the games right?"

aizetsu signs, but you can feel the mood finally settling to a comfortable point that you can lean into.

and so the conversation shifts to a more neutral topic, and you're able to relax a bit and enjoy your coffee that has run lukewarm now. but in the back of your mind, you can't help but wonder what urogi's true intentions are and why he's so interested in you.

as the bizzare occassion winds down, you can't help but feel a sense of surreality as the situation has evolved into something you never imagined. you would have never expected approaching the kid in the back of the lecture room would lead to this.

“i should get going, my shift starts soon.”

urogi whistles,” a worker and a student. busy, busy.”

as you reach for the check, your hand is halted by urogi's quick reflexes. he snatches it away with a playful grin, teasing his brother, "aizetsu, making our them pay? that's not very hospitable of you."

aizetsu simply shrugs, his expression unreadable. "i didn't want to insist and make them feel uncomfortable. they wanted to treat me, after all."

urogi's playful demeanor dissipates, and he studies his brother for a moment before suddenly slamming his own card on the table. "consider it my treat, then. you can owe me one, aizetsu."

the gesture catches you off guard, and you feel a flush rise to your cheeks. you're not used to this kind of generosity, and it makes you feel both grateful and uneasy at the same time.

as the waiter takes the bill and disappears, you let out a small sigh of relief. the cafe, though delicious, has been a rollercoaster of emotions. urogi, the more talkative of the two, had bombarded you with questions, leaving you feeling dizzy and unsteady. aizetsu, on the other hand, had remained quiet for the most part, his blue eyes observing your every move.

as urogi scribbles a generous tip onto the bill and rises to his feet, you can't help but feel a little relieved that the intense scrutiny is over. he chats easily as he turns to his brother, his voice ringing with a certain cheerfulness that makes you wonder what kind of relationship they have.

"it was nice to meet you. i'm sure we'll be seeing each other again." urogi waves his phone in the air, the light catching the screen and casting a blue glow across his face. "sekido wants to see us. i staved him off for long enough, but we both don't want him calling."

his gaze flickers briefly to his brother, before settling back onto you. "sekido is technically the 'oldest'. a bit rougher than the rest, but," he pauses, his lips tugging up into a small smile. "i'm sure you'll get along just fine."

urogi throws an arm over aizetsu's shoulder, guiding him away as they make their exit. you watch them go, feeling more confused than when you first walked into the restaurant. what kind of family were they, to be so open and yet so guarded? you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts, as you gather your belongings and head out.

⚘. ⚘. ⚘.

as the day waned, you hurriedly packed your bag and left campus feeling the piercing gaze of the curious onlookers behind you. the sky outside was a blend of oranges and pinks, the sun bidding a warm farewell to the day. you knew you had only a short window of time to change and make it to your night shift at the corner convenience store in your neighborhood.

at night, the store was a hub of activity, bustling with customers seeking to grab a quick snack or last-minute essentials. it was a simple job, but one that kept you afloat, paying your bills and rent. the store was always expecting customers, but not always with the most pleasant of crowds. the sound of shattering glass echoed through the aisles, causing you to wince from the front.

“oi, you’ll be paying for that, dumbass. i told you to watch where you’re going,” growled a gruff voice.

“i ain’t paying for shit,” retorted another voice, filled with equal parts anger and defiance.

you listened nervously as the argument escalated, hoping it would end before you became an issue beyond simple damages. as the two men continued to bicker, you couldn't help but wonder how your life became this - a constant struggle to make ends meet, dealing with difficult people and their petty squabbles. the thought made you feel a little weary, but you squared your shoulders and braced yourself.

the job itself wasn't glamorous, but it was a means to an end. you were grateful for the reliable income that helped manage your rent and groceries. the store owner even threw in a decent discount on some of the items, which came in handy during tight months. and being situated so close to home, you didn't have to worry about losing precious time commuting.

eventually, the two men made their way to the front, both jostling to get to the counter first. you waited patiently as they bickered and pointed fingers, each refusing to take responsibility for the shattered case of beer.

“oi, this bastard shattered a case of beer.”

“that wasn't me it was you.”

“as if.”

“well i ain't paying for it,” came the final reply with a sharp glaze your way.

you knew it was only a matter of time before the blame would fall on you, but you had grown accustomed to these petty disputes. with a smile, you offered to take care of it, hoping to diffuse the situation as quickly as possible.

the men, still grumbling but appeased for the moment, took their leave and headed for the door. you breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that they didn't try to engage with you further. you retreated to the backroom to gather the necessary cleaning supplies, mentally preparing yourself for the next unexpected hurdle.

it was an inconvenience, but at least this one made sense.

⚘. ⚘. ⚘.

the air is thick with the buzz of students rushing to and from their final exams. your own mind is a jumble of information, formulas, and theories that you've tried to cram into your brain in just a few short days. the relief of completing one of the exams is quickly replaced with a sense of exhaustion and the anticipation of the next one. you're stumbling down the hallway when you suddenly collide with someone.

hands steady you, preventing you from falling to the ground, and a familiar voice rings out with laughter.

it's urogi.

you can't help but feel a little surprised to run into him again, especially during such a hectic week. the finals schedule has thrown off your usual routine, making it difficult to anticipate who you might see on campus.

despite the chaos of the week, urogi rather collected. his eyes sparkle mischievously as he greets you, as if he knows something you don't. it's clear that he's not here by coincidence. you wonder if he's been keeping tabs on your schedule, or if he's simply a master of appearing when you least expect it.

you open your mouth to apologize for the collision, but urogi beats you to it. "well, well, well. look who it is! i thought i recognized your backside from a mile away," he jokes, playfully teasing you.

you take a moment to look around and notice that the hallway is filled with students bustling to and fro. the fluorescent lights overhead cast an unnatural glow on everything. the air is heavy with the scent of stale coffee and sweat, a testament to the long hours spent cramming for exams.

in the midst of the chaos, urogi stands out like a beacon of calm. his hair is windswept and his clothing is slightly disheveled, but it only adds to his charm. his eyes dance as he talks, and you find yourself drawn into his infectious energy.

"finished with your exams?" he asks, his curiosity palpable. your last exam of today was one of the later ones, but fortunately, you've managed to escape the night classes this year. you don't know if you could survive that again. still unsure why urogi is talking to you, you respond politely. "yes, one more tomorrow, and i'm done."

urogi nods along. "right, right." as bodies move around you both, you can't help but notice the stares and whispers floating around. this is not the kind of additional stress you needed. you're already exhausted from studying and taking exams, and now you have to deal with gossip and speculation?

"well, i should get going. good luck with the rest of the week." urogi's gaze widens at your abruptness, and he reaches out to stop you. "hold on, i actually came to ask you something."

you can feel your heart rate increasing as you turn to face him. what could he possibly want?

“the thing is,” urogi begins, his voice low and conspiratorial. “i'm hosting an end of semester party tomorrow night. it'll be a chance for everyone to unwind and forget about their worries. you should come.”

you immediately go to decline, you barely know urogi but you know of the crowd he attracts. that definitely would not be your scene trapped in a house with all of them. “thanks for the offer but—”

urogi cuts you off, “it’d be really great if you came. aizetsu needs the break too and he’s more inclined to come if you do. “

he seems to sense your hesitation and reaches out to squeeze your shoulder. it's a show of camaraderie that surprises you. you didn't realize the two of you shared that kind of relationship.

“you still owe aizetsu a treat, right? you can use this as one,” he says with a wink.

you frown at his words, feeling as though you're being manipulated. you cant help but frown at that, “that feels more like a treat from you. which would make it twice youve done that.”

urogi shrugs as he pulls away,” really? i dont see it that way.” he waves of his shoulder as he departs, not giving you room to argue.

“catch up with aizetsu and coordinate. see you tomorrow,” he calls over his shoulder.

as you watch him disappear into the crowd, you're left wondering how quickly this semester has changed.

⚘. ⚘. ⚘.

the final exam had come to a close and the air in the classroom was charged with a palpable sense of relief and accomplishment. as the instructor wrapped up the semester with final words of praise and congratulations, you couldn't help but feel your spirits lift with each passing moment.

you were finally done.

as the rest of the class began to shuffle out of the door, your eyes drifted to aizetsu. despite trying not to think much of it, urogi's offer returned ahain. now, without the excuse of exams, it was harder to bat away.

making up your mind, you rushed to catch up with aizetsu as he made his way out of the classroom.

"aizetsu, hey!" you call out, your heart racing as you catch up to him. he turns at the sound of your voice, and you feel a jolt of something electric as his cool blue eyes meet yours.

"did you feel confident about that? you should, after all the effort i put into quizzing you," aizetsu says, his voice low and smooth. you shake your head, trying to refocus your scattered thoughts.

"yeah, actually. thank you. i used your revision guide last night too." you reply, feeling grateful for his help during the exam preparation.

aizetsu nods. "good, you've earned the break." you notice something lighter in his posture today, something more friendly. "do you have work tonight?" he asks.

his question reminds you that you have something else to ask him. "no, actually, i wanted to see if you were planning to go to urogi's party."you say, your voice laced with a touch of hesitation. aizetsu raises an eyebrow, his expression quizzical.

"urogi's party?" he repeats.

it feels odd to ask, given that they're brothers. but you feel as though you were right in assuming that aizetsu had no interest. as if to mirror your thoughts, he frowns. "no, i never really go. i didn't think it would be something you enjoyed either."

well, it seems you both have a pretty good scope of each other. a gesture that fills you with unexpected warmth. it gives you the courage to push further. "normally no, but i thought it could be fun?" you offer with a shrug. "and i still owe you a treat. let me buy you a drink?"

aizetsu is quiet as he considers you. it's almost as if he sees through you and can imagine the echoed conversation from between his brother and you yesterday. the scrutiny makes you nervous. but just as you go to take back your offer, he sighs with a shrug. "if that's what you want."

"yeah, i think it will be fun," you grin, more t ease with his acceptance.

"alright."

it appears that he wants to say something else but leaves it at that. you watch him go, feeling both relieved and anxious at the same time.

⚘. ⚘. ⚘.

as the evening draws closer, you can feel your anticipation building up. the last day of exams has left you feeling exhilarated, and you can't wait to let loose a little at urogi's party. but before you head out, you decide to put a little extra effort into your attire. you rummage through your closet, picking out an outfit that is both stylish and comfortable.

as you slip into your clothes, you can't help but wonder why you're putting in so much effort. after all, it's just a party, and you'll be surrounded by a bunch of drunken college students. but a part of you knows that you're doing it for yourself, to feel good and confident. and maybe, just maybe, you're hoping that aizetsu will notice too.

the memory of your conversation with aizetsu earlier in the day lingers in your mind. you can't shake off the feeling that something has changed between you two. the way he looked at you, the way he spoke to you - it all felt different somehow.

as you step off the bus, the bustling city surrounds you like a cloak. you take a deep breath, feeling the energy of the crowd electrify your senses. the sound of car horns and chatter mix together in a chaotic symphony, and the neon lights of the city create a vivid display of color.

but as you walk towards the address, you begin to realize that something is off. this is not the typical college housing area where you expected urogi's party to be held. instead, the street is lined with bars and clubs, their neon signs lighting up the night sky.

as you approach the establishment linked to the address, you notice a line of your classmates snaking along the sidewalk. it seems that urogi has chosen a more unconventional venue for his mid-semester bash. you can hear the muffled thump of the bass from inside the bar, and the scent of alcohol and sweat wafts towards you on the breeze.

for a moment, you hesitate. this is not your usual scene, and you feel out of place.

as you approach the entrance, you notice a burly man, who must be the bouncer, engaged in a heated discussion with a student and another man who looks vaguely familiar.

the man’s furrowed brow gives him a perpetually annoyed expression, but you can't help but notice the resemblance between him and aizetsu and urogi. it's almost too obvious for you to believe that he's anything other than the third brother.

that leaves one left.

"there should have been a limit on the patrons," the man grumbles as he stares down at the line of students with a look of distain. "my brother knows the capacity and we're well past it."

"but i was invited," the girl protests, but neither even acknowledges her.

"they're welcome to wait until someone leaves, but i won't have regulators at my door over some college students," he says, turning to leave.

you scan the long line of people waiting outside the venue and a sense of disappointment settles over you. it looks like a never-ending queue, and you can't help but think that no one will be leaving the party anytime soon. the ingress and egress would surely be a nightmare for those at the back of the line, which includes you.

despite feeling a bit disheartened, you had made an effort to dress up for the occasion. you don't know why, but you had a feeling that tonight was special. maybe it was because aizetsu was coming, and you wanted to look your best for him. you hope that he will notice your extra effort, but you're not entirely sure if he will.

you pull out your phone to let him know about the situation.

the least you could do was inform him that you tried. you uncover your phone and send a text

hey, the place is too packed for more entry. i’m going to head home. sorry for convincing you to come :(

his reply comes quicker than you expect.

are you still here?

a few blocks down? about to catch the bus soon.

the text is sent, and you wait for a reply. as you stand at the bus stop, you see the headlights of the approaching transport. but just then, a voice startles you.

“hey, why are you going home? did you not want to come?”

it's aizetsu, and you're surprised to see him standing there. he's dressed more casually than you, in a light shirt and jeans. you quickly explain the situation with the bouncer and the overcrowding.

“but you wanted to come?” he asks, and you can't help but feel a flutter of excitement in your chest.

“i mean, i guess. i got dolled up for it,” you reply, turning a bit to show off your outfit.

aizetsu gives you a quick once-over, and you feel a rush of warmth at the attention.

“then don't let it go to waste. let's go."

you're hesitant at first, but his encouragement pushes you forward. you feel a bit anxious about the overcrowding, but you're also thrilled to be going to the party with aizetsu.

aizetsu's determination to get into the club was unyielding and he led you back under the bright lights illuminating the entrance. despite the short amount of time that had passed, the line had remained steadfast, with the same resolute girl still standing at the front. aizetsu, however, was not deterred as he pulled you to the front of the line. the bouncer regarded you both with a cool stare.

“capacity limit,” he stated firmly.

“they were invited by both myself and urogi. kick someone else out if you want, kyogai, it won't make me sad,” aizetsu replied confidently.

kyogai seemed to consider the proposition for a moment, but ultimately gave in as aizetsu pulled you through the entrance. the waiting students erupted in protest, but their complaints were muffled as the sound of the music inside grew louder.

stepping into the club, you were struck by its beauty. the colors, lights, and sounds all melded together to create an atmosphere unlike any you had experienced before. the room was alive with energy and excitement, and you couldn't help but feel swept up in the moment.

the decor was impeccable, with plush velvet seating and shimmering crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. the bar was lined with a vast array of drinks, and the bartenders were busy mixing and shaking cocktails. the dance floor was a sea of bodies, pulsing with the beat of the music.

“this is beautiful,” you breathed, marveling at the sight before you.

“karaku designed it. he would appreciate the compliment,” aizetsu said and you realized that must be last of his brothers.

indirectly, that meant you were now aware of four of them. your mind raced with questions, but for now, you were content to lose yourself in the magic of the night.

as aizetsu leads you to the bar, you take in the lively atmosphere around you. the music pulsates through your body, vibrating every fiber of your being, and the colorful lights cast playful shadows on the walls. the decor is sleek and modern, with a futuristic vibe that seems to transport you to another dimension. it's a far cry from the usual places you frequent, but you find yourself enjoying the change of pace.

as you lean against the bar, taking in the scene, you feel a sudden tug on your shoulder. urogi stands before you, a wide smile on his face. his presence is commanding, and you can't help but feel drawn to him. his eyes roam over you, and you sense that he's impressed by your appearance.

"where have you been?" he says, his voice tinged with amusement. "fashionably late, i see." urogi dressed for the occasion, comfortable in a nice button up and slacks.

you smile in response, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence. "i wanted to make an entrance," you say playfully. "and i'm glad i did. this place is amazing."

urogi remains close and you can feel the warmth of his body against yours. he turns to the bar and raps his knuckles against the counter, “oi, karaku. you just going to just stand behind the bar oe do work?”

you watch as a handsome man with emerald eyes approaches them, his lips pulled in a tight frown.

it's clear that this man is urogi's brother, and you can see the family resemblance in their sharp features and confident demeanor.

his lips pull in a taut frown as he regards urogi, “i’m meant to manage the staff. since you decided to invite the entire campus.”

karaku's gaze shifts to you and you feel a flutter in your chest. he's just as attractive as his brothers and his eyes seem to penetrate your soul. you can't help but feel a little intimidated by him, but also curious.

“hey, its good business, right?”

“you don't know the first thing about running a business.”

“at least i go to school to learn.”

“And someone how come out dumber.”

“oi—”

as the brothers continue to bicker, you can't help but feel a sense of fascination with this family. they're unlike anyone you've ever met.

as karaku's piercing gaze meets yours again, your heart quickens, and you feel a flush spread across your face. "you're aizetsu's friend," he states matter-of-factly, his voice low and smooth.

you blink, momentarily stunned, before realizing that you've lost sight of aizetsu in the exchange. you glance over your shoulder and see him still leaning against the bar, a picture of nonchalance.

"yeah, that's right," you reply, extending a hand in greeting. to your surprise, karaku accepts the gesture.

"well, what will it be then?" he asks, his tone businesslike.

"oh, i thought you were just managing," you say, trying to keep up with the conversation.

"i am," he replies, his eyes flitting to the busy staff behind the bar. "but since my staff is busy because of him, now i have to step in. your choice?"

you quickly order a simple drink, but karaku frowns at your request. "do you take recommendations?" he asks.

"um, sure," you say, feeling a bit out of your depth.

karaku turns and reaches for a bottle, his hands moving with fluid grace. you watch in awe as he expertly mixes the ingredients, turning a plain liquor into a colorful and vibrant concoction that perfectly matches the atmosphere of the club.

he sets the drink in front of you, and you take a hesitant sip. the taste explodes on your tongue, and you can hardly believe how delicious it is. you take another sip, relishing the complex flavors that dance across your taste buds.

"this is great, thank you," you say, smiling up at karaku.

the corners of his mouth lift in a small grin. "glad you like it."

you fumble for your wallet, but karaku turns away before you can offer to pay. "sorry, i have to go manage my brother's itinerary," he says, his voice fading as he disappears into the crowd.

you feel a hand on your shoulder, and you turn to see urogi at the retreating figure. "hey, you're welcome for the tips, asshole," he says, nudging you playfully.

you laugh, feeling lightheaded from the drink and the atmosphere of the club. it certainly wasn't your typical scene, but you were glad you came.

he gestures to your hand, and you realize that you're still holding your wallet. "you can put that away," he says, "we got you covered. you're a guest."

you feel a twinge of guilt at the thought of being treated, but you realize that it's too late to back out now. aizetsu seems to sense your hesitation, and he steps in to reassure you. "you can get the next one," he says with a smile. "you still owe me a treat, right?"

you nod, feeling grateful for the generosity. it's not often that you get to experience something like this, and you want to make the most of it. you take a deep breath and let the atmosphere of the club wash over you. you can feel your body relaxing, your mind clearing. this is exactly what you needed.

"great," you say, a smile spreading across your face. "now let's really get partying."

in response, urogi grins and you feel yourself being tugged away.

⚘. ⚘. ⚘.

urogi's hands on your waist felt both warm and secure, guiding you along with the rhythm of the music. the dance floor was alive with movement, bodies swaying and pulsing to the beat. you caught glimpses of colorful lights flashing overhead, illuminating the club in a vibrant glow.

aizetsu was still nearby, but his serene demeanor made it clear he wasn't there to party in the same as the others. when you had tried to get him to join, he waved you off, telling you to have fun. you wondered what was weighing on his mind, but decided to let it be for the night. this was a chance to let loose and have some fun, after all.

urogi's voice broke through your thoughts, drawing your attention back to him. "you know, aizetsu's not one to hang out with anyone. he must think highly of you."

you felt a flutter in your chest at the thought. aizetsu was someone you admired greatly, and to know he valued your company was a special feeling.

urogi continued to lead you in the dance, his movements smooth and practiced. "and karaku doesn't just give out recommendations to anyone either. he's a bit of a stickler for quality."

you laughed at the thought of karaku being a hard-to-please critic. it was clear he took pride in his craft, and his passion showed in the drinks he served.

“that just leaves sekido.” urogi’s grip tights as he pulls you to his front. “but I think your luck will carry you through.”

as the night wore on, you felt yourself letting go of any worries or stresses. the music was loud, the drinks were flowing, and the company was good. you were grateful for this moment of pure enjoyment, surrounded by friends old and new.

as you dance with urogi, you become lost in the rhythm of the music and the swirling colors of the lights. your movements flow effortlessly with his as he pulls you closer, his hands finding the curve of your waist.

you glance over at aizetsu, but he seems lost in his own world, his expression solemn and unreadable as he relaxes by the bar. when he catches your gaze, he raises a drink with an equally raised brow.

as you try to slip away from urogi's grasp, you find yourself lost in the surreal atmosphere of the party. the thumping bass of the music seems to pulse through your veins as the neon lights cast a hypnotic spell over the crowd. the scent of sweat and perfume mingles in the air, creating a heady aroma that makes you feel intoxicated.

urogi's hold on your wrist is loose, but his chin rests heavily on your shoulder. you feel his warm breath on your neck, and it sends shivers down your spine. you glance over at aizetsu, who seems to be lost in thought as he sips his drink at the bar. you can't help but feel guilty for abandoning him, especially since he came here with you.

you pull against urogi's grip once more, and he reluctantly lets you go.

“you think it matters but it doesn’t. we’re different but we all appreciate the same thing. try not to think so hard about it.”

his words are cryptic, and you can't help but wonder what he meant by 'we'. who was he referring to? the other party-goers? you shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts, but they remain jumbled and confused.

“urogi what—”

“urogi! finally, i’ve been stuck outside this whole time. why didn’t you come get me?”

just then, a whiny voice interrupts your musings. it's the girl from outside, and she seems to have managed to sneak in somehow. urogi greets her with a forced smile, but his grip on your wrist tightens once again. you can feel the tension in his body, and it makes you uneasy.

the girl's eyes flicker over to your joined hands, and you can see the jealousy simmering in her gaze.

“who is this? didn't they come in with aizetsu?”

you're not sure how much more of this you can take, and you make another attempt to leave. but urogi pulls you even closer, his grip almost suffocating.

"sorry, we need a break," he says, and you can hear the irritation in his voice. you can feel your patience wearing thin as you try to extract yourself from his embrace, but he refuses to let go.

while you definitely agree with the statement, you weren't expecting to be pulled in the opposite direction of the bar. you can feel the tension in his muscles as he leads you towards a quieter corner of the club. the swaying throngs of people blur as you're led towards the next level of the club.

as you pass a red rope barrier, you realize it's a reserved section. the area is dimly lit, but you can make out a few plush couches and armchairs arranged around small tables. the air here smells different too, more luxurious and fragrant. not once does anyone move to stop you both. it's clear now that the club is not only managed by karaku, but also held some sort of ownership.

you can't help but feel a sense of relief at the brief reprieve from the intensity of the party. you take a deep breath and let it out slowly, feeling the cool air against your flushed skin.

urogi's gaze meets yours and you can see a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. "i'm sorry about that," he says, his voice softening. "i wanted you to enjoy yourself, not feel overwhelmed."

you feel a pang of guilt at his words, realizing that you are indeed a stranger to all of this. but there's something about urogi's easy charm that puts you at ease.

“c’mon, i promised you a break.”

as urogi guides you into the room, the pulsing music fades away and the sounds of hushed voices and clinking glasses fill your ears. the dim lighting casts a warm glow on the faces of the people lounging around the room. your eyes immediately find aizetsu, who is leaning back against the couch, his drink held loosely in his hand. he must have slipped through the crowd at some point during the brief confrontation.

“so they managed to get in.”

the voice is deep and smooth.this must be the final one, sekido. his presence commanded attention even from afar. as you approach him, you finally realize the last detail about him that you couldn't place before: his eyes are a piercing shade of vermillion, drawing you in with their intensity. he seems to have grown broader since you last saw him, his arms comfortably stretched over the back of the couch.

“hey, you saw them and didn't let them through? you ass.”

you glance up at urogi, who lets out a sigh as he leads you to the couch and positions you between himself and sekido. you can't help but wish that you were seated between him and aizetsu instead, but you push the thought aside. other than the initial comment, no one made you feel unwelcome.

"they weren't invited by me. apparently, you can thank aizetsu for doing it for you," sekido continues, a smirk playing on his lips.

urogi rolls his eyes and pulls you closer to him, his arm draped around your shoulders. "i can't believe you saw them all dolled up like this and didn't intervene on your own. i wouldn't have been able to resist."

sekido lets out a snort and reaches for his own short glass, taking a sip. "i hardly saw them. and i'm not you."

urogi's arm around you is both comforting and possessive, as if he's claiming you as his own. you're acutely aware of his body heat, the subtle movements of his muscles as he shifts to get more comfortable.

aizetsu, on the other hand, exudes an air of calm, his posture relaxed as he sips his drink. his eyes meet yours briefly and you detect a hint of amusement in his gaze.

sekido, with his broad shoulders and easy confidence, seems like the type of person functions as the foundation of the group. he lounges back against the couch with the careless grace of a panther, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. you can't help but feel a little intimidated by him, even though you know he means no harm.

you can feel the tension between the three of them, but you're too stimulated to fully comprehend it. you look around the room, searching for a distraction. "where is karaku?" you finally ask, trying to change the subject.

the man in question enters the room with a flourish, as if summoned, balancing bottles and glasses with practiced ease. you marvel at his skill, wondering how he manages to keep everything from spilling. the scent of rice wine fills the air as he sets the glasses down.

he apologizes for the plainness of the glass, but you don't mind at all. you're just grateful for the hospitality. urogi grumbles about karaku never wanting to meet his friends and you get the sense that there's a deeper tension between the two brothers.

you take a sip of the rice wine, savoring the complex flavors as they dance across your tongue. it's smooth and slightly sweet, with a subtle aftertaste that lingers in your mouth.

“so what about you caught our brother’s interest?”

sekido's sharp gaze bores into you, and you feel yourself squirming uncomfortably under his scrutiny. his eyes seemed to be searching for something, but you couldn't decipher what.

you realize that befriending aizetsu had been quite an accomplishment. but you already partially knew that. the man was not one to socialize much, and you had to muster all your courage to approach him. you had always been anxious about approaching people, even those related to your studies, but something about aizetsu drew you to him.

as you recall the memories of your initial interactions with him, you can't help but smile. aizetsu wasn't the most talkative person, but over the months, he had opened up to you in ways you never expected. you liked being around him because it made him look less alone, but it was more than that. it was a two-way agreement, and he welcomed your presence, going as far as to save your seat when you became a regular.

"i just wanted to be his friend," you finally say, and that was the truth of it.

karaku's voice interrupts the silence that follows. "how cute."

you take another sip of your sake, trying to fill the void created by the unsaid words that were lingering in the air. the brothers around you slide into their own conversations, and you take a moment to observe your surroundings.

the room is dimly lit, casting an warm glow on the faces around you. the air is thick with the scent of sake and the gentle hum of conversation surrounds you like a warm embrace. you feel oddly secure, despite being surrounded by people you barely know.

around you, the air hums with the sound of the brothers' voices, blending together in a cacophony of chatter. it's both exhilarating and terrifying to be in the midst of such men, all of whom exude an aura of authority that's impossible to ignore. you glance down at the floor, where a pattern of intricate symbols is etched into the wooden planks. it's a reminder that you're sitting in their territory, and that fact isn't lost on you.

you're brought back to the present when you notice that your cup has been refilled, courtesy of karaku. the gesture is both generous and intimidating, as if he's reminding you of your place at the table. you take a sip of the drink, letting the liquid wash over your tongue and down your throat.

as you drink, urogi's arm slips back around your shoulders. his touch is surprisingly cool against the warmth of your skin, and you can't help but lean into it, relishing the sensation. you're not sure if it's the alcohol or the company, but you're starting to feel a little lightheaded.

urogi breaks the silence with a teasing question. "so, i want to hear more juicy details of why you like aizetsu. surely, i'm cuter."

you laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within you. "aren't you all quadruplets? you all look the same."

urogi pouts, his lips twisting into a playful grimace. "oh, so you agree i'm attractive. but that also implies you don't see a difference between us. surely you can appreciate the polarity."

you squint, taking a closer look at urogi. out of all the brothers, he has the most boyish looks. "hmm, let me think," you say, pretending to deliberate. "i guess you do have a more youthful appearance, like aizetsu."

urogi grins mischievously. "oh, still too vague. let me give you something to compare." and with that, he leans forward and kisses you.

the sensation is both shocking and exhilarating. you're not sure what to do at first, but then you start to respond, letting yourself be swept up in the moment. urogi's lips are soft against yours, and his tongue teases yours playfully before he pulls away, leaving you breathless and flushed.

“so?”

for a moment, the air is heavy with the weight of what just happened. your dazed from the action, words thick on your tongue before you can finally manage,” i’ve … never kissed aizetsu.”

urogi’s gaze goes comically wide,” what? but you guys had such a nice date set up before.”

as urogi's words sink in, your mind races to catch up. you had never considered the possibility that your friendship with aizetsu could be interpreted as something open. the memory of your planned outing together suddenly feels like it's been cast in a new light, and you wonder if maybe you had been sending mixed signals all along.

“it wasn't a date… we were…” where were your words?

but before you can even begin to sort through your thoughts, urogi's warm breath tickles your ear, and his words pull you back to the present. "were?" he asks, his voice teasing.

your heart flutters in your chest, and you feel a blush rising to your cheeks.

no, not were to imply something had changed.

because nothing had changed. you are—

you open your mouth to speak, but before you can find the words, karaku's voice cuts through the air like a knife.

"urogi, stop. you're confusing her."

you look up to see aizetsu seated across from you, his expression inscrutable. you can't tell if he's angry or hurt, but the tension in the air is palpable.

for a moment, you feel like you're drowning in a sea of emotions, unsure of which way to swim. you don't know what to say, or even if there's anything you can say to make things right.

as the silence stretches on, you become acutely aware of the atmosphere in the room. the low murmur of conversation from the other patrons of the bar seems to fade into the background, leaving only the sound of your own breathing ringing in your ears.

urogi pouts, “i just asked them a question.”

urogi's pout only adds to the surreal atmosphere, as if his expression alone were enough to challenge the laws of physics. aizetsu doesnt relent, “but you didn’t give them a fair sample to compare. you rushed ahead as usual.”

the brothers continue their conversation, but you find it hard to focus on anything except the electricity that seems to be pulsing through the air.

rushed … ahead..?

just when you think things couldn't get any more intense, aizetsu leans over his brother to cup your face. you're taken aback by the sudden closeness, but before you can even process what's happening, his lips are on yours. the kiss is firm, yet gentle, and you feel your head spin as you lose yourself in the moment. this is the closest you've ever been to him, closer even than during your study sessions.

when he pulls away, you're left gasping for breath, still reeling from the experience. and then, just as suddenly, urogi turns on you. "so now you have a comparison. can you tell the difference?"

you can feel the weight of their gazes on you, but you can't bring yourself to face them. you're not sure if you're ready to handle the scrutiny, not after being kissed by both brothers in such a short span of time. it's all too much, too surreal, and you're struggling to find your footing in this strange new reality.

"look at that flush. now i'm intrigued, you found an interesting one, aizetsu."

you feel a rush of emotions as sekido's words weigh heavy on your mind. was that what they thought of you? were you just another classmate to take advantage of their brotherly bond? the thought makes your heart ache and you feel a sudden urge to leave, to preserve what little dignity you have left.

but before you can make a move, sekido's hand is on your arm, pulling you towards him.

“the two of you are still close from familiarity. they need an outlier to appreciate the variance.”

you can feel the roughness of his calloused skin against your flesh, sending shivers down your spine. as he cranes your head up, you can't help but feel a flutter in your stomach at the intensity of his gaze.

"pay attention," he commands before dropping his mouth to yours.

sekido's kiss is ravenous and urgent, surpassing any notion of chastity as he devours your mouth. his tongue slips past your lips and explores every inch of your mouth with a hunger that takes your breath away. you try to match his intensity, but your chest heaves as you struggle to keep up with his passion. when he pulls away, your head spins from the sheer force of the kiss.

you're left dazed and disoriented, your mind racing with questions and doubts. how had this night come to this? to be caught in the middle of the brothers, playing with your affection? you can't help but feel like you're in over your head, unsure of where this unexpected turn of events will take you.

“well, suppose it's only fair, eh?”

as karaku approaches, you can feel the energy shift, a palpable tension in the air. his presence is suave, and you find yourself captivated by the way he moves, the way he carries himself with such confidence and grace.

he kneels before you, and you feel a jolt of expectation as he leans in to kiss you. the touch of his lips is electric, a subtle shock that ignites a fire within you. his kiss is practiced, but not cold - he leads you through a dance of passion, his movements sure and fluid, his touch light but commanding.

as he pulls away, you can feel your breath catch in your throat, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and fear. you are unsure of what just transpired, of what it all means - but one thing is clear: this was no longer a simple game.

his thumb brushes across your lips, and you can feel the heat of his gaze as he looks into your eyes. his voice is low and seductive, a whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

"pretty, pretty," he murmurs. "so what do you think, are we so similar?"

#hantengu x reader #sekido x reader #aizetsu x reader #karaku x reader #urogi x reader #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #kny x reader

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shiftingconfessions · 21 days

Note

I will be pulling a wild one here

I am shifter before shiftok and shifting tumbler and so on, I was part of the firsts shifting plataforms to ever exist, the work of my friends and colleagues are diluted and changed in many methods the community still using today, or use and not yet know about it.

Shiftok is a lie. It is straight up a lie, more than half of accounts in there are lying, take the big 10 accounts all around the globe and you will see how deeply unsettling and ego blinded these ppl are.

I will share a lil secret to shifting on tumbler, most influencers KNOW that they are talking shit nowadays. The so proclaimed creators of shittok vanglorizes themselves for creating it, but deep down one was a absolute baby shifter and the other one knew her stuff but was caught in drama.

They both are part of the first shifting community ever, started on 2017, they were warned to use their voice to spread information but they decided to blind themselves and continue their fights and dramas.

Besides that, the modern Mainstream Shiftok is around money. TikTok monetizes creators and for these creators to have a base, they need people to watch their videos

Information is freedom, and there is no way to get the proper amount of needed information on shiftok, it is a short video app, we are discussing a experimental practice on reality switching.

Besides that, people now want to make you pay for shifting info, or manifestions courses, and so on

Let me tell a thing that sadly will make sense in the future: Shifting is free, shifting has always been free and those people do not have authority on the matter to even teach it

While the community has been improving, there is a lack on the shifter vanguard, on ACTUAL new stuff and an actual understanding behind shifting. Some people shift by oversimplifying things, others by hard looking into why's and hows, both are valid but they need to correspond to each other. If a community is too complex shifting becomes too hard, if a community is too simple shifting becomes a myth.

That is the state of the community, anyones out there who wants to understand why's and how's can't even find good bases since everything is gatekept and even the so called shifters from shiftok can't even understand it or desire to share it.

Therefore creating a community that is constantly a lie, people tell experiences that don't match when being re-telled and either make sense, many have been spotted doing so. Shifting changes someone, it is a trace marked on their minds forever, to fully shift is to be forever changed. Most people are either LDs or having false awakenings and calling it a day.

Besides all that people are fighting for stupid ideas. Being taboo, race changing was never a topic in our community before it began on shiftok. You know why? Because everyone knew that infinity selfs does not mean that you are equally in all realities, we all playing roles, if I am certain race in my Dr that is not the one I am in this reality, then I won't act like I am part of the minority in this reality.

As for the hypocrisies of these people, most accounts that moved this debate was being xenophobic on Portuguese and Spanish communities.

As an extra information, If you know Sunni Method, you should know that sunni was one of the first shifters (on our understanding of DR, WR and scripting) that created and sourced so many different shifting practices and helped the first gen of the community to understand the practice. She did not only proved shifting to the subliminal communities as well define a work that would be still being used today, the Sunni method is the basic for every method. And she is afro American, and for today terms, she would be changing her race depending on the reality.

For the people that keep making futile problematization on this topic, it shows that you never fully understood shifting and created fake scenarios on your mind to source a point that was never a actual point. Minorities need support on day to day life, not whatever people are believing on determined practice.

tw: mention on self harm

As for respawning, anti-respawing are a bunch of ungrateful. Respawning made the very much bases of modern shifting. And for the respawners that belief that it should end on self harm, you do not understand how respawning work and how delicate are the structured you about to mess. If you are suffering from any mental difficulties, search professional help and not spiritual help that often leads to bad escapism.

Going back

The individual journey of someone starts on the seed planted by the community they find shifting, the hard truth is that shifting isn't only a personal experience but a collective one. In another words the community state you get, is the seed of your journey. Before 2018 people had a hard time shifting because they could not understand what it was, a few years later the community achieved a gold state with sharing knowledge and methods (which the English community would constantly gatekeek to their siblings communities btw) and after the mainstreaming on TikTok shifting went down to a stone age.

People are debating either if they can or cannot do things. In shifting. The. Belief. Of. Infinity.

I can understand why baby shifters do these questions, but I see people on this community since 2020 and the ones from 2019 who end up on the wasteland of other social platforms, asking questions that are so OBVIOUS

You don't need to know everything, but for star sakes you NEED to understand the basics of the thing you are doing, what a script is and how to write one, a few methods and your own cosmological view settled down.

Shifting allows you to mix and match beliefs like a Lego set, do it for your personal journeys using what other have found in the past.

While people are degrating the community and locking good stuff a way, shifting gets every day harder and harder, becoming everytime a godfied event and a hard and thought task that only a few can achieve, that is the mindset that is being grown on the community.

Why the hell the overall community nowadays have less and less actual experiences that the community a few years ago?

For the future, I am not sure but I bet on the end of the practice in a few years, when outsiders "grow out of it". Some will shift, others will just move on with their spiritual journey and so on, the community slowly fading.

I am not here to bring a salvation message, I am so tired, I have been making so much for the last 5 years, trying so hard to archive, share and teach people about shifting, in a way that was forgotten and locked down.

I am permashifting soon, and I am posting what I know on the community where I learned shifting in my native language, this end up more in a vent and a warning to what is happening. Do not believe me if you do not want to.

As for the people that want to understand more, I really recommend for you to dig in the past, a hint is that shifting started on amino. ik it is a bad app but sometimes gems appears. Shifting predecessors (quantum immortality and dimensional jumping) are available on Reddit to be studied (see the archives version of D.J) but they don't fully translate to shifting. (do not use the reality shifting subreddit)

And leave the damned app that is TikTok, you may be laughing for 3 seconds with some random girl talking about draco, but would be way better to be in your dr. why would you let your mind rot?

Shifting is a spiritual practice sourced on scientific facts and theories, both may be fighting a lot but a thing that they have in common is digging stuff, dig and search like never before, the community and it's beliefs are open on the internet, sometimes all you need is to answer a few questions and you will be able to find a good plataform

Your journey will be good no matter what.

Happy shifting.

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting realities #desired reality #shifting community #shifting #shiftcourse

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cantsayidont · 4 months

Text

When attempting to critique the values of a long-running franchise like STAR TREK, it's important to draw a distinction between superficial issues and structural ones.

"Superficial" in this sense doesn't mean "minor" or "unimportant"; it simply means that an issue is not so intrinsic to the premise that the franchise would collapse (or would be radically different) were it changed or removed. For example, misogyny has been a pervasive problem across many generations of STAR TREK media, which have often been characterized by a particular type of leering-creep sexism that was distasteful at the time and has not improved with age. However, sexism and misogyny are not structural elements of the TREK premise; one can do a STAR TREK story where the female characters have agency and even pants without it becoming something fundamentally different from other TREK iterations (even TOS, although there are certainly specific TOS episodes that would collapse if you excised the sexism).

By contrast, the colonialism and imperialism are structural elements — STAR TREK is explicitly about colonizing "the final frontier" and about defending the borders, however defined, of an interstellar colonial power. Different iterations of STAR TREK may approach that premise in slightly different ways, emphasizing or deemphasizing certain specific aspects of it, but that is literally and specifically what the franchise is about. Moreover, because STAR TREK has always been heavily focused on Starfleet and has tended to shy away from depicting life outside of that regimented environment, there are definite limits to how far the series is able to depart from the basic narrative structure of TOS and TNG (a captain and crew on a Starfleet ship) without collapsing in on itself, as PICARD ended up demonstrating rather painfully.

This means that some of the things baked into the formula of STAR TREK are obviously in conflict with the franchise's self-image of progressive utopianism, but cannot really be removed or significantly altered, even if the writers were inclined to try (which they generally are not).

What I find intensely frustrating about most modern STAR TREK media, including TNG and its various successors, is not that it can't magically break its own formula, but that writer and fan attachment to the idea of TREK as the epitome of progressive science fiction has become a more and more intractable barrier to any kind of meaningful self-critique. It's a problem that's become increasingly acute with the recent batch of live-action shows, which routinely depict the Federation or Starfleet doing awful things (like the recent SNW storyline about Una being prosecuted for being a genetically engineered person in violation of Federation law) and then insist, often in the same breath, that it's a progressive utopia, best of all possible worlds.

This is one area where TOS (and to some extent the TOS cast movies) has a significant advantage over its successors. TOS professes to be a better world than ours, but it doesn't claim to be a perfect world (and indeed is very suspicious of any kind of purported utopia). The value TOS most consistently emphasizes is striving: working to be better, and making constructive choices. Although this can sometimes get very sticky and uncomfortable in its own right (for instance, Kirk often rails against what he sees as "stagnant" cultures), it doesn't presuppose the moral infallibility of the Federation, of Starfleet, or of the characters themselves. There's room for them to be wrong, so long as they're still willing to learn and grow.

The newer shows are less and less willing to allow for that, and, even more troublingly, sometimes take pains to undermine their predecessors' attempts along those lines. One appalling recent example is SNW's treatment of the Gorn, which presents the Gorn as intrinsically evil (and quite horrifying) in a way they're not in "Arena," the TOS episode where they were first introduced. The whole point of "Arena" is that while Kirk responds to the Gorn with outrage and anger, he eventually concedes that he may be wrong: There's a good chance that the Gorn are really the injured party, responding to what they reasonably see as an alien invasion, and while that may be an arguable point, sorting it out further should be the purview of diplomats rather than warships. By contrast, SNW presents the Gorn as so irredeemably awful as to make Kirk's (chronologically later) epiphany at best misguided: The SNW Gorn are brutal conquerors who lay eggs in their captives (a gruesome rape metaphor, and in presentation obviously inspired by ALIENS) when they aren't killing each other for sport, and even Gorn newborns are monsters to be feared. Not a lot of nuance there, and no space at all for the kind of detente found in TOS episodes like "The Devil in the Dark."

#teevee #star trek #star trek tos #star trek the next generation #star trek picard #strange new worlds #i find strange new worlds largely unwatchable #and this is a major reason why #along with their determination to no-homo spock

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quadrantadvisor · 1 year

Text

Yknow the shitty marvel movie type trope of diffusing all of your emotional scenes with humor? Homestuck does the same thing but with a RADICALLY different vibe. Like exactly the opposite.

Most modern media that does this is trying to distance the author from the text, by inviting the audience to laugh with the author. Oh, isn't this story silly, we're self aware, no need to immerse yourself. It's got this smug yet self depreciating tone, because it feels like the author wants you to like them more than their story.

Whereas when Homestuck does this it is self aggrandising, because it's meant as an explicit ATTACK on the audience. It is a purposeful attempt to draw the reader in and then pull out the rug from under them. It's not meant to break the tension, it's to give you mood whiplash. It shows a certain amount of confidence in the text, because the author truly believes in the text's ability to emotionally affect the audience so that this trick works.

I can definitely empathize with someone who finds this aggravating (that's sort of the point), but to me it's legitimately preferable to the self-aware jokey jokey thing because I don't think it diminishes the impact of the story itself. The narrative still exists as is, with all of its devastating events, and the jokes are a way of twisting that knife in a little bit further.

I would honestly go as far as to say that many of these style of jokes don't lighten the mood at all, but just add an extra element of poignancy or horror to a scene. Something ridiculous happening to the body of a recently deceased character isn't exactly light material, for one example. For another, more specific one, consider Dave's "acrobatic fucking pirouette off the handle".

As a quick refresher, Dave says early on in the story that, rather than flying off the handle, he will do an "acrobatic fucking pirouette". This wording becomes a frequent callback joke from that point on. And then, much later, Dave finds the impaled corpse of the older brother who raised him, and decides on a symbolic gesture he'd like to make. He can't pull the sword out of his brother's chest, because he doesn't feel like he's worthy. He has to make a "clean break", by breaking off the end of the sword to take with him. But it doesn't work, and in the attempt he's flung backwards. And then he's just laying there, on the ground, while his friend points out that he has finally, literally performed his acrobatic pirouette off the handle.

And yeah, that's funny, but to me it's also absolutely devastating? This is a character who's recently been dealing with extreme self worth issues and a crisis of free will, who's clumsily trying to grieve for the very person who caused a lot of those issues in the first place. It makes the entire thing feel weirdly inevitable and that much more horrible for it, like, of course this would happen, his whole LIFE has been a joke to begin with. It doesn't detract from the moment. It invites you, the audience, to sit in that moment with the character and just kind of let it wash over you.

At least that's how I feel about it!

#homestuck #this post is way too long and kinda disjointed and Im sorry #ive been listening to homestuck made this world and it has been leading to a... frankly embarassing amount of rereading of the actual comic #and while I wouldnt necessarily say that this type of humor is something that homestuck is doing right #because I dont think it tonally works in like MOST scenarios #i do think its really interesting and worth examining and I like it #homestuck meta #again sorry to everyone ever

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cookinguptales · 9 months

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*spins the meta wheel* yeah okay, let's talk about Nandor.

One of the things that's always fascinated me most about his character is the way he desperately wants change but also seems to be more terrified of it than all the other characters put together. He talks about wanting things to be different a lot, but he always sabotages anything that might really materially change his life.

Like -- this quest for love. He talks about how much he wants a partner, he wants his life to change, but what do we actually see? In s3 and the beginning of s4, he's just consistently going after women who don't really want him instead of spending time developing the relationships he already has. He dips into shallow relationship after shallow relationship because the real relationships, the ones that might actually change his life, terrify him. The best/worst of these is probably the cult dedicated to literally living in a fantasy version of the past, which like. Not really helping him beat those afraid-of-change allegations.

(You can learn all the 80s and 90s songs you want, Nandor, we both know only Guillermo is exposing you to modern pop culture! And yeah, there's more than one metaphor there...)

And then in s4, he decides he wants a wife, so he chooses one in the most haphazard way possible and makes both of their lives miserable. He is constantly changing her to make her easier for him to deal with without actually changing his life, and then he gets rid of her when he's fed up with the monster that he's created.

His whole thing with the Djinn is that he's constantly asking him to change things -- and then change them back. He wastes so many wishes on things like Marwa. I want this. No, that. No, that. No, put it all back to the way it was originally.

He does this over and over and over, and nothing seems to perturb him more than finding out that things have changed when he wasn't looking. (See: his difficulty accepting that Laszlo is creating relationships with other people, his spiraling over the big bang, etc.)

So... how does this pertain to Guillermo?

Guillermo's frustrated with Nandor at the end of s4 because Nandor likes the status quo. Things are different, are constantly changing, but Nandor refuses to acknowledge any of that. (He even mentions off-hand that he forgets Guillermo is a slayer sometimes.) Guillermo has always worked for them all under the promise of change, so you could see why this would freak him out a little. He's realizing that things will never change with Nandor because Nandor won't let them. He's so scared of change that he just straight-up ignores it and hopes it will go away -- when he's not actively trying to stop it.

Nandor, who has been making and breaking plans with an almost manic frenzy for the entire season, is finally calm at the end of s4. Why? Because he thinks that everything has gone back to normal. Marwa is gone. Freddie is gone. Guillermo is no longer talking about leaving. Those are the important ones for him, but then Colin Robinson also returns and the house is set to rights, too, so like... why should he worry?

He has no idea what he's already lost. That's what's making me crazy. He doesn't know that he's already lost everything that matters to him. But I think he suspects.

The thing is, Nandor throws himself into his books and his self-help and everything else because I think he can tell, at least on a subconscious level, that things have changed. Indelibly. He knows that Guillermo has changed, and that's probably the one kind of change that scares him more than anything else.

But despite the fact that Nandor can tell that something is up, he still keeps insisting that it's no big deal. It must be some small perceived slight or something. It can't be a huge change that Guillermo is keeping from him. No, no, he already figured that out. He managed to reel Guillermo back in with the wedding scheme. He doesn't have to worry about Guillermo straying again.

:')

He's afraid of losing Guillermo to change, so he prevents change and ignores what he can't prevent. He doesn't realize that that's exactly what's driving Guillermo away. That it's already driven Guillermo away. Nandor's put the idea of Guillermo's transformation up on a shelf, nice to look at occasionally but not a thing he really has to interact with. The theoretical option for change is there, but he doesn't have to worry about it actually affecting his life.

As always, he's attracted to it, but it also scares him. He'll make a glitter portrait of a vampiric Guillermo at his side, but he can't seem to fully get his head (and heart) around the reality of giving Guillermo that kind of power and freedom.

He's afraid that giving Guillermo that kind of power/freedom will change their relationship further, when he's finally gotten it the way he (thinks he) likes it, and he's even more afraid that if Guillermo's leash is taken off, he'll run. He spent all of s4 trying to keep Guillermo from running, but he still seems to believe down deep that he'll do it.

And... he wasn't wrong. Guillermo did go elsewhere to get his bite. But Nandor is very much the one who drove him to do it. I think that's the tragic thing, isn't it? He was so afraid of his relationship with Guillermo changing that he forced Guillermo's hand, which caused the exact kind of change that he was most afraid of. Guillermo distancing himself, Guillermo leaving, Guillermo -- well, cuckolding him, really.

I think it's fixable, but Guillermo's not the only person who's going to need to eat dirt here. He may have been the one who "cheated", from the vampires' POV, but Nandor wasn't upholding his end of the deal, either. And he's going to have to acknowledge the way Guillermo has grown and changed throughout the course of the series, stop regressing to calling him his familiar, and apologize for his own inaction. It may not be the vampiric way, but it certainly would not be the first time Nandor has thrown away vampiric customs for Guillermo.

Nandor, friend, you gotta sit back and learn to embrace change. You gotta enter the 21st century. You gotta allow your relationship with Guillermo to grow organically.

Because Guillermo's gonna change one way or another, and it's really your decision whether or not he leaves you behind. :')

#see: things I care about so much that I wrote 50k words of fanfiction about it lmao #wwdits #wwdits meta #wwdits s5 #wwdits spoilers #long post #guillermo de la cruz #nandor the relentless

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moncherellie · 6 months

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heartbeat/himeros

summary: ellie left you 3 months ago, but accepted when you came crawling back to her. the only problem is that you have a girlfriend now- oh, and ellie still loves you.

a/n: written quickly and self indulgent!! inspired by heartbeat by childish gamibo. himeros is the greek god of sex and unrequited love btw

content: 1.3k words, sfw w/sexual mentions, angst, modern ellie au, manipulative relationship from ellie's pov, reader has no specified gender, reader is cheating on unspecified girlfriend, toxic relationship/situationship?

youtube

ellie hates that you're still in her rotation. you broke up, what, 3 months ago? you have a new girl now. it's disgusting that she allows you to keep crawling back to her, and every time she wakes up to an empty bed and wrinkled, soiled sheets, she wants to throw up. tossing the fitted sheet into the washer conjures the visceral guilt that makes ellie think that she'll never take you back again. each time, she deludes herself into believing that next time you come, she'll close the door on you.

but when the "next time" comes, she's sighing and opening the door, welcoming you into her arms because you fit so fucking perfectly in them. you're a parasite and you've made her think she needs you. you suck the life out of her whenever you come over but she accepts it and takes the pain as if it were keeping her alive. the sting in her heart is what's sustaining her, like a knife stopping the bleeding that it caused. she can't imagine what it would be like to completely cut you off, so she doesn't.

it's awful that she keeps you around when she knows you have a new girl. ellie'd seen her on instagram, scrolling through her page and trying to convince herself that she doesn't care she doesn't care she doesn't care she doesn't-

she'd sighed and admitted that your new girl was beautiful, wholesome, with the brightest smile ellie had ever seen. just the fact that you had someone so different than her made her feel like shit. was she so bad that you couldn't be with someone with any similarities to her? and ellie knew, of course, that was a stupid and egocentric thing to think. she knew she was flawed and traumatized and all that baggage might've been too much for you. she wanted to blame you, but she couldn't. she'd spent too many nights shamefully wishing that you'd break up with her first so that she wouldn't have to face her own shit.

it's always in the morning when she texts you. ellie would text at night, so that she could wake up to you, but she finds that during the daytime, you can't ignore her message and pretend you're not on your phone. if you don't respond for a while, she imagines that what's distracting you is a quaint breakfast scenario between you and your girl. the kind of thing you and ellie used to have.

you'd wake up to that girl making you breakfast. pancakes, bacon, and eggs, like some 1950s domestic suburbia nightmare. you'd be comfortable and rub your eyes sleepily. your girlfriend would kiss your head. you'd walk around the house naked because you were that fucking comfortable with whoever the hell she is, and it made ellie feel sick to her stomach. what made her feel worse was how she wanted to inject herself into that happiness. texting you to inquire about a hookup in the morning would force you to think about her, interrupting whatever happiness you were finding without her.

it would force you to face the fact that yours and ellies' story wasn't done yet.

then, she imagines, you read the text as it pops up on your homescreen. it's probably a pinterest-worthy picture of the the happy couple, tainted by a pathetic ex's text. you'd turn the phone over, smile faltering for a second, before grinning back up at your girlfriend like nothing had happened.

ellie tries not to be everywhere you are, but when you'd been together for so long, your favorite things had melded with hers. the bar she liked way before she met you is now the place you frequent when your new girl upsets you. she watches you empty the glass of whatever bitter drink you've got, convincing herself to not walk over, but her legs move of her own volition. when you empty that glass, she's there, and she's the next thing you need to get your fill of. ellie doesn't stop you. it's some kind of cruel addiction.

you start crying to her about how your girlfriend's upset you, how she doesn't think you trust her, and ellie is, as always, the shoulder to cry on. in that emotionally vulnerable state, you're at your most beautiful, so when you lean in to sloppily kiss her lips (trailing too much spit across her chin) she doesn't pull away. ellie hears the ping of a text from your girlfriend, probably apologizing. it happens often enough that she's committed the sound byte to memory. it spurs her to continue on out of spite, as if to say she's mine. she's fucking mine. she always will be.

it ends the same way each time- ellie takes you home and you have mind-blowing sex. the physical connection you had is as strong as ever, and ellie is disgusted at the way you take her like she'd never left you; like you always knew she'd come back. your bodies fit together perfectly, slotting against each other as if each curve and divot were parts of the same cracked plate.

the sex was physically perfect, but it was also the most emotionally draining thing ellie had ever done. you were a ghost- despite the way your face contorted in pleasure, there was no fondness under your gaze. the grasps at ellie's skin weren't loving, they were rough and carnal in a way that made her want to curl up.

she tries to fuck other girls, but when she doesn't feel the familiar awful pit in her stomach, she's turned off. it's cruel that she seeks the pain, that it's what gets her off now. she shouldn't have to suffer in order to feel something, and it's not fair to the girls she sleeps with to get over you, because she knows it'll never work.

ellie misses the time when you'd kiss gently after sex, giggling to each other and holding you in her arms, bodies entangled. sweaty, panting, and in love. she cries herself to sleep in the same bed that you'd giggled at her in. she misses the goofy, bad, unserious, and unexperienced sex that you used to have. she'd trade what you had now just to get back to that. she feels like she's performing for you now, to convince you to keep coming over. she honestly feels like she couldn't live without you if you left for good. she doesn't want to be purely sex to you, but if that's what it takes for you to return, she'd be your himeros.

the morning after, after she throws her sheets into the wash, she stares at herself in the mirror. she hates her body and she hates that it's the only thing you want from her. she stares at the scratches going down her back, wanting to erase the marks from her skin. she stares at the bags under her eyes, morbidly loving that it was you who put them there. she moves into the shower sluggishly and feels the scratches sting all over her body. she lathers body wash onto her hands- the same one you'd bought her, and before she knows it, she's grasping the shower head pathetically and is thinking about how you used to be the one who'd shower with her.

it was out of pure love that you did it. you'd run your hands through her hair, and ellie's stress would dissipate. she holds the shower head to her chest and sobs into it, water spraying out of the curtains and onto the floor, soaking the bathmat. she'll have to throw that in the dryer with her sheets.

everything around ellie reminds her of you, and it's not something she can help. everything you touched was ingrained in her mind as your thing. every trivial object had an attributed memory from your relationship.

your current situation is the most confusing thing to her. she didn't know if she was your lover, or a side piece, or the weird friend/ex you'd hook up with sometimes. she didn't know what you were to each other, only that you were leading her on a leash to a destination she couldn't see. sometimes, she wishes that you'd never come crawling back to her.

but then she feels the sting of the shower on the marks you left, and she realizes that your pain is what she craves.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader angst #ellie williams angst #ellie williams #moncherellie writing #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams oneshot

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himbo-aficionado · 10 months

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I just think its interesting how at the very end of the story, we see Merlin walking past Avalon, the place where he sent off Arthur all those centuries ago. There are many different ways the scene could've went on to display his everlasting loyalty. It easily could've been a scene where maybe Merlin was with his wife and a kid who was named after Arthur, or he became a historian/scholar who kept the Arthurian legends alive after everything he went through or maybe even a physicist trying to build a time machine, find a loop in time to go back and fix the past.

But no.

We see him all alone, old and unequivocally miserable. No longer meddling with fate nor trying anything at all. Lost in a world beyond time that no man should live past or would even be able to comprehend. We see that he never moved on from Arthur, having somewhat a glimmer of hope deep within him. Nobody speaks about how insanely difficult it must have been to have hope especially when you have no end to your own life. As mortals, we can't even bear grief for a short period of time. Yet, Merlin lived the cursed life of an immortal, a life where he will only keep losing everyone he's ever loved. A life full of grief.

In the modern world shown, nobody even believes in magic or practises it and yet he...still believes that someday Arthur will return to him. In the past, he reiterates that he just wants Arthur to see that everything he does is for him. He tells Hunith that Arthur only likes him because he doesn't know him. We see he acknowledges that Arthur is doing acts of service because he likes him yet Merlin couldn't be satiated because he still wasn't his true self to Arthur. To be seen and known for who you truly are is to be loved, that is all he ever wanted from Arthur, even from the very beginning of their relationship.

"You never once sought any credit"

"Its not why I do it"

During the magic reveal, he said "I use it for you, Arthur. Only for you.", still desperately wanting it to be known that his entire life was devoted to Arthur. There was no talk about legalising magic and whatnot between them either after that. He only kept repeating that he was born to serve Arthur. We see in real time just how much he meant when he said "There will never be another like you, Arthur." Evidently, he meant that Arthur is the Once and Future King but it also plays out for Merlin, because there never was anyone like Arthur in his life after that. To the point where he could find no purpose upon losing Arthur.

And yes he keeps saying that its his destiny to be Arthur's servant, that he grew up and learned the meaning of duty but is that really all it is? Towards the end, it was apparent that Merlin's objective was no longer for magic to be accepted in Camelot (as much as he wanted it). Ever since he found out about Arthur's Bane, it was all about keeping him alive. Even when the great dragon told him that there is nothing he could do anymore, Merlin could not accept to lose Arthur. "I can't lose him, he's my friend." It didn't matter that magic isn't legal yet in Camelot. He could not give two fucks about it anymore or else we would've seen magic in the future scene. One can assume that he completely stopped trying to find a solution. Or even lost the will to live.

What I'm trying to say is that, the final scene really is more than just an epilogue to show his loyalty, immortality and despair. If you think about it for a moment, it shows that somewhere along all the fights, snide remarks, banter, and what he and Arthur think isn't exactly a friendship, - they're stupid, don't mind that - he was in love with Arthur. And Arthur loved him in return even in the face of death as the truth came crumbling down. Its not as simple as 'falling in love' because, I don't think Merlin woke up one day and realised that he was inconveniently in love with the idiot arrogant prince who was tied to him by fate.

Their love was inevitable but it definitely stopped becoming destiny and duty a long time ago, it became a choice. "I'm happy to be your servant till the day I die". Merlin was, and I quote "putting up" with Arthur not because it was his life sentence to do so; it was because he wanted to. The worst thing of all is: Merlin chose to do it for the rest of his life.

#didn't mean to ramble like that my bad #i was thinking #i will not do it again #merthur brainrot is real #warn ur friends #walk with me #today i will wear my white button down #merthur #bbcmerlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #bbc merthur

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mrsbarnesxxx · 23 days

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thinking about what modern!james potter would do when he sees that reader is sad. maybe some family issues, like her sisters get along with her family really well, and they go out and stuff and she just feels kinda left out? maybe with some self image problems? and james is there to save the day. thanks 🤭

You're KILLING me with these requests love! He would be so sweet. I'm so sorry this took so long. I was so lost on what to do with it for a while.

Warnings: poor self talk, slight angst, James potter being the absolute best boyfriend.

He starts to notice that you're acting off. The two of you have been spending the holidays with your family. You had introduced him to your sisters, of course, he was his naturally charming self and they had loved him. However, he had noticed a slight rift between you and them, nothing like Sirius and his family, more like a slight competition of sorts.

He'd notice their more expensive clothing, the inside jokes between them, the way they never bothered to include you in their outings. You tried to hide it, but of course he noticed. How could he not when he was completely absorbed by anything you do?

"What's wrong pretty girl, huh?" He asks sitting next to you on the couch and stroking your cheek

You fake a smile, his voice pulling you from your thoughts, "Nothing's wrong Jamie." You lie

"Nah..." he smiles pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you. "You can't fool me that easily. What's going on?"

You sigh debating how much to tell him. "It's just..." you sigh. "It's silly, but my sisters always just hang out with each other. They have their jokes between the three of them and I feel like they don't need me anymore. They never ask me to go to movies with them or shopping like they used to. It's like they've suddenly forgotten about me." You take a breath before continuing. "And then they're all so pretty and have boys dropping at their feet wherever they go and I didn't even have a boyfriend until you."

James smiles for some reason, he can't help it. You're so adorable when you're upset.

"Why are you smiling?" You shine curling into his chest.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He says smiling wider. "You're just so adorable." He presses a kiss to your head. "I know it must suck to feel like they don't need you, but it's a part of growing up. Maybe mention to them that you feel left out, or invite them out with you. As for the boys thing missy, you could have hundreds of boys falling at your feet, but you never even notice them. Like last semester, you didn't even notice when Amos Diggory was shamelessly flirting with you. Or the time Fabian Prewett knocked himself over in the library by staring at you."

"They did not!" You exclaim.

"Oh but they did. You ever wonder why Fabian broke his nose?" James smiles.

"Because of me?" You ask in disbelief.

"Because of you, you little minx." He smiles.

"Thank you, Jamie." You smile pressing a kiss to his cheek. He blushes a pretty shade of crimson before deflecting into a different topic.

"What do you want to watch?" He asks grabbing the TV remote.

"Ooh! Have you ever seen Despicable Me?" You ask excitedly.

"Is that the one with the weird yellow tic tacs?" He asks pulling a blanket over the both of us.

"They're called minions!"

"They look like tic tacs." He defends.

I smile clicking on the movie.

"Get ready for a looonnngg night, Potter. There are more than one of these." You smile.

"Oh no." He fakes a groan and yet the boy still smiles and presses play.

#james potter fluff #james potter x reader #mbxxrequests #mrsbarnesxx #mrsbarnesxxx #james potter blurb

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sidekick-hero · 1 month

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caught in the careless arms of lust again

metaldeputy | explicit | 5.6k | tags: crossover Fargo/Stranger Things, No Upside Down, Modern AU, pwp | AO3

Dickinson, North Dakota was as much a shithole in Eddie's eyes as Hawkins, Indiana. The only real difference, as far as he can tell, is the cold, which is more biting than even the worst winter he ever experienced back home, and his balls are trying as hard as they can to crawl back into his body.

It's not like he wants to be here. There was no way in hell he was going to spend more time than it took to take a piss and pump some gas into his van in a state that was mostly God-fearing northern rednecks and a whole lot of nothing.

But of course, nothing ever goes according to plan in Eddie Munson's life, and his van broke down just as he was passing through Dickinson on Interstate 94. He'd seen the sign and giggled like a high school kid at the silly name, momentarily distracted and not looking at the road. That's why he didn't notice the damn deer until it was too late, and like the idiot he was, he swerved to avoid it, skidded on the slick icy road, and ended up in the ditch.

Luckily he wasn't going that fast, so after a few feet the car came to a stop in the snow, the engine dead and refusing to start no matter what he tried.

And now his van is in the hands of a guy named Ray at Ray's Auto Electric, while Eddie has to rent a room in a dubious looking hotel called the Badland Inn. It’s fifty bucks a night, which he certainly doesn’t have, but beggars can’t be choosers, and it’s too damn cold to even consider sleeping outside. Ray, who had taken one look at Eddie's long hair and tattoos before seeming to decide he wanted Eddie gone almost as much as Eddie wanted to be gone, said it would be at least three days, maybe more, depending on how fast he could get the part he needed to get his van running again.

And that's why Eddie is sitting in some dive bar, drinking a cheap watered-down beer, wallowing in self-pity, when Deputy Gator Tillman walks into his life.

At first he doesn't even turn his head to look at the man who just sat down next to him, just nods politely while staring into the smudged glass in his hands. It's only when the guy next to him orders a Bud Light, of all things, that Eddie can't help but snort. From what he's seen so far, the men here are manly men, drinking only the bitterest beer and the strongest whiskey while thumping their chests like apes.

"Something funny, shitbird?" The guy snarls at him.

And here we go again, Eddie thinks, already tired of what's sure to come.

"Listen, man," Eddie starts as he turns around to face whoever's ego he just bruised, only to be stopped by the sight in front of him.

The guy's hot, is the first thing that strikes him, square jaw, full lips, droopy eyes, and a slanted nose. His chestnut hair is slicked back and shaved with racetrack lines, as much a part of his machismo as the combat pants and bulletproof vest he's wearing. Too bad his face is just too pretty for any of it to work.

He must have been staring, because the hazel eyes looking back at him narrow even more, his whole face turning into a sneer that's still far more attractive than it has any right to be.

"What are you staring at, asshole?"

A ghost from my past, Eddie thinks. Because he once knew a boy who looked just like the guy before him, a boy who tried so hard to be the epitome of everything a wealthy white businessman's son in Bumfuck Indiana could want. He played all kinds of sports, was captain of the basketball and swim teams, had a new pretty girl on his arm every week, and sneered down at everyone below him as he looked on from his perch at the top of the high school food chain.

King Steve, a man who had been so goddamn pretty that Eddie could still remember all the times he had jerked off to fantasies of those lips and hands, and that juicy ass in Harrington's tiny gym shorts.

The man before him looked different, of course, but much of him was the same. Maybe that was the reason why Eddie didn't stop his mouth from running off on him.

"You. It's a nice view, that's for sure."

Even as he braces himself for a punch, Eddie can't tear his eyes away from the hauntingly familiar face in front of him as he sees the words land. They're mostly harmless. Not even a pretty boy or a sweetheart thrown in there. At least not yet.

The man's eyes widen, just a fraction, just enough for Eddie to notice. Just as Eddie notices the color rising up his neck and the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Gotcha, big boy.

"What did you just say to me?" The guy demands, taking a step forward, invading Eddie's personal space, bringing with him the smell of cologne and old sweat, tinged with something fruity Eddie can't quite put his finger on.

There’s enough of a height difference between them that Eddie can look up at him through his lashes from his seat. He curls his lips into a smile that has just enough edge to draw the guy’s eyes to it and keep them there.

"Paid you a compliment. Don't tell me a handsome guy like you doesn't get those all the time, huh?"

The brazenness makes the other man stumble, Eddie can tell by the way his mouth opens and closes without a sound coming out of it. He catches himself soon enough and leans back, pulling himself up to his full height and bringing his hands to his hips, drawing Eddie's eyes to where the tips of his fingers graze the gun strapped to his thigh.

Okay, this is how they're going to play this, apparently.

"Listen, you fucking pansy, I ain't got no idea why you think you can just come in here and talk to a man of the law like that, but I'm gonna show you where you and your kind can stick your disgusting tendencies."

This makes Eddie smile even wider. His mantra has always been 'fuck the law', so that's exactly what he's going to do. And he's pretty sure this particular lawman wouldn't mind. Just as Eddie is sure now that Harrington wouldn't have been opposed to Eddie's tendencies, but back then Eddie hadn't been the kind of guy to take such a risk. No experience, just a gut feeling, and that wasn't enough to risk getting his nose broken. Or worse.

Now, with more than a decade of hookups with supposedly straight guys under his belt, he knew the signs. And the guy right in front of him? A big fucking neon sign.

"I dunno, Sheriff. Maybe you’d rather I show you where I could stick my tendencies instead. I'm sure you can take it like a man, big boy."

Eddie makes sure to lean in again as he says this, letting his eyes roam over the guy's body in a blatant invitation that he really hopes will be taken. It's not like he has any trouble picking up guys, even in the backwoods he's been traveling through lately, though he does have to be a little more careful. But he wants this one, badly. He's sure he'll look like sin on his knees for Eddie, eyes as round and wet as his mouth wrapped around his dick, begging for anything Eddie is willing to give him.

The guy in front of him doesn't seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he doesn't have to be, Eddie thinks. Not with that face. It takes him more than a few moments to work through Eddie's words, and the first thing he responds to is not what Eddie would think it would be.

"That's my dad." At Eddie's confused look, he adds, "Sheriff. My dad is Sheriff Roy Tillman. I'm his right-hand man, Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman." He says, standing even straighter, voice dripping with pomposity.

"I figured you'd be a mouthful, Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman."

Eddie gives him a wolfish grin and licks his lips, eyes focused on what he can make out of the bulge in the deputy's pants, which are frankly a little too loose. Guys like him should wear tight jeans or those gray sweatpants that show off the goods a lot better than fucking combat pants.

"The fuck you talkin' about, numbnuts?"

Yeah, not the sharpest tool in the shed. But maybe this is his chance to defuse the situation, turn it into a joke, and get the hell out before he finds himself behind bars or with his face bashed in. The Eddie of a few years ago would have run, just like he had run when Harrington had him pinned down at Skull Rock after Eddie had taken his flirting a little too far during a weed sale. He'd had the same look in his eyes that he sees on the Deputy's face now.

Hunger masked as anger.

So instead of running, Eddie decides to show his hand. Make his offer clear and see if the Deputy takes him up on it. And if not, he will hole up in the inn and hope that Ray gets his parts as soon as possible.

"I'm talking about your cock, Deputy." Eddie mutters.

He rises and positions himself to cover his hand as it reaches out to squeeze the bulge, feeling it swell under his touch. Big Boy, indeed. He takes a stumbling step forward to have an excuse to press himself against Deputy Tillman's hard body and leans in to whisper in his ear.

"Too bad we don't get to play with it. I'm sure you'd be so good." Eddie clicks his tongue against his teeth with a soft tzk. "But what can you do, right? Have a good evening, Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman."

Counting on dear Deputy Tillman needing another moment to process what Eddie just said, he steps away from the other man and saunters out, heading toward the inn.

He hasn't even made it out of the parking lot before he hears the sound of heavy footsteps following him outside.

Bingo.

He keeps walking and doesn't turn around, but there's a pleased smile on his face. If the Deputy was going to bash his head in, Eddie hopes he would have done it by now. The footsteps behind him are faster than the saunter Eddie was taking, but they don’t charge at him, just follow a few steps behind.

Eddie makes sure to sway his hips as he walks, feeling the other man's eyes on him the whole way. He can't be sure, but he thinks they're fixed on his ass, and he's glad he put on his skinny jeans that hug his thighs and ass just right. Not that it will see much action tonight. Eddie knows what Deputy Tillman needs, and soon he’ll know it too when he’s on his knees and begging for it.

For now, Eddie lets him think that it's his tight ass that’ll be getting hit tonight.

The walk to the inn is silent and the cold air around them feels heavy, charged. Anticipation crackles under his skin like a summer storm brewing in the sky and he can't remember the last time he felt so alive.

After passing through the entrance, he waits at the bottom of the stairs until he hears the front door close again, and only then does he begin his ascent to his room on the fourth floor, climbing the stairs with the steady sound of steps creaking under two sets of feet.

When he finally reaches the door to his room, his chest is heaving from more than just the physical exertion. Something about the whole night feels so goddamn surreal, and he still half expects to wake up in a ditch after being beaten half to death for flirting with a fucking cop in a part of the country where that could very well get him arrested. Or worse. So much worse.

And yet here he is, inviting danger into his room, into his bed, into his arms.

Something about Deputy Tillman makes him forget everything he's learned about staying out of trouble.

In fact, he's walking right into it, with a devilish smile and a raging hard-on.

Eddie hears the heavy steps behind him coming to a halt as well and he can feel the presence of another body close to his. For just a second, he contemplates calling it off, taking the safe route, just like he promised his uncle to do. But then he remembers the hot, thick girth under his hand and the way Tillman reminds him of a ghost from the past that has come back to haunt him and thinks fuck the safe route.

Slipping the key into the lock and turning it to the right, he opens the door and walks into his room, turning on the light and waiting for trouble to follow him inside.

They still haven't said anything, not since Eddie so boldly proposed the Deputy Sheriff, but he thinks they both know why they're here.

"I take it you're here to play a little, Deputy?" He doesn't even turn around when he asks this, the question being mostly rhetorical anyway. Just him playing with his food, making Tillman admit why he followed Eddie here.